


Meditation and Blaster Bolts: How Heroes Bide Their Time

by SianShanya



Series: How Ahsoka Tano (sort of) Saved the Galaxy [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka and Clone bros do awesome things, Anakin is a walking disaster, F/M, Happy(ish) trash Skywalker AU, Obi-Wan teaches a teenager, Padme is a badass single mother, but not a Sith, hopefully it'll be kinda funny, much platonic and romantic pining, pre-rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SianShanya/pseuds/SianShanya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of "I Know", Anakin and Padmé raise Luke and Leia at opposite ends of the galaxy, Ahsoka, Rex, Jesse, and Kix stick it to the Empire, Obi-Wan attempts to teach a teenager to be a Jedi, and Bail Organa gathers his forces. Meanwhile, Sheev does Sheevy things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Life and Times of Tatooinian Starship Mechanics

10 BBY, Mos Eisley, Tatooine

As the moisture farmers liked to say, “If there’s a bright center to the universe, this is the planet farthest from.”

It was an established galactic fact that Tatooine was the least civilized world in the Galaxy. However, if you were to ask its residents, you’d probably hear that the desert world had a certain charm. 

For one thing, the Imperial Navy stayed mostly away from it. There was nothing on Tatooine worth antagonizing its Hutt lords over, after all. Of course, the lack of Imperial presence, coupled with the presence of the Hutts meant Tatooine was largely populated by the scum of the Galaxy, but there you were.  
However, this heavy criminal presence (and utter lack of restriction on them) meant that anyone who managed to ply an honest trade on Tatooine was good at what they did. 

If they weren’t, they died.

Hidden amongst bounty hunters, slaves, Hutts, and guns-for-hire were the Galaxy’s best pilots and mechanics. And there was always plenty of work for them, for while Tatooine escaped the attention of the Empire, it was a positive beacon for smugglers and those whose careers necessitated frequent use of pilots and mechanics.  
Every being in Mos Eisley Spaceport would agree, if asked nicely, and in a good mood, that the best place in the city to get one’s ship (or anything else, really) fixed was Gannara’s garage, on the East side of the city. Gannara himself, a crochety old Askajian with a shrewd mind for business, was not much of a mechanic, but stang, did he know how to sniff  
them out! 

For droids, there was little better than Jani, whose deft touch had pulled her out of slavery in Mos Espa.

The best vaporator mechanic in the Galaxy (according to Tatooine’s moisture farmers) was undoubtedly Borun Telfar, once you got past his stutter.

And if you asked for help with an engine, didn’t matter what kind or how old, everyone in Mos Eisley would direct you to Gannara’s garage and tell you to ask for Kin Starseeker, because he was so good with them that half of Mos Eisley thought he must be able to actually communicate with the machinery, like an astromech. 

And so, when Alina Karalen’s navicomputer fritzed out and forced her to land on Tatooine to get repairs done, she found herself outside Gannara’s garage. 

Silently cursing her utterly rotten luck, Alina tugged her hood down further against the harsh sunlight. She was a bounty hunter, and therefore had been to Tatooine before, but, as far as galactic cesspools went, she preferred Nal Hutta. At least on the swamp world, there was no dust.

At least the garage had been easy to find, what with its huge, if a little faded, sign. Alina flipped her hood back and stepped into the big garage, squinting in the sudden shade. Had this been a halfway civilized place, she’d have murmured polite hellos at the other patrons, but this was Taooine, and so she just palmed the hilt of her knife and walked past them.

From the back office came an Askajian, presumably the owner.

“Hello, hello!” he called. “What can we be doing for you today?” Alina crossed her arms.

“I’ve got a damaged starship. I wanna be done quickly, and no questions asked.” She patted her pocket, hard enough to make her credits jangle. This being the standard way to commission work done in the Outer Rim, no one looked twice at her.

“Of course!” said the Askajian, beaming. “Oi!” he shouted over his shoulder, “Kin, I’ve got one for ya!” 

Following his line of sight, Alina watched the human male stand and walk over, automatically sizing him up. He was tall, for a human, and muscular. He went armed, too, blasters on each hip and vibros in his boots Though his expression was polite, she saw the same hard steel in his blue eyes that meant he was no stranger to death. Clone Wars, likely, or maybe a planetary civil war. Seeing her appraising look, he cocked one eyebrow.

“What can I do for you?”

“My navicomputer went on the fritz. Went all staticky and kept trying to calculate four routes at once. I had to put my ship down here on the way to do a job, so I’d like to get back underway as soon as possible. Time is credits, after all.” she finished with a grin. His face stayed in a polite mask.

“Alright.” He looked back at the Askajian, who nodded, then turned back toward what must be his workstation, little more than a clear bit of floor and a workbench, which was currently occupied by a small girl, dark hair in braids.

“Leia, go on and see if Mirilba needs help with her cooking, alright? I’ll be back later.” The girl nodded, flashed the mechanic -Kin- a gap-toothed grin, and took off, dodging around equipment and customers alike. Alina couldn’t help but watch the girl go. Children weren’t exactly rare on Tatooine, but clean, well fed kids were thin on the ground throughout the Outer Rim, especially in cities. Kin turned his blue gaze back to her, eyes cool, daring her to ask.

Alina knew better. 

“Come on, then. I’ll take you to my ship.”  


* 

* 

* 

* 

“Stang. What did you _do_ to this thing?” Kin asked, staring at the ship. Alina spun and glared at him for a second, but relented and shrugged. It was a fair question. Her ship, _Violet Sunrise_ was mostly salvaged, and not exactly pretty.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. When I bought her, she was about to be sold for scrap. All I could afford, you know? I took her to a guy back home, and he said he’d fix her up, but, apparently he was lying?”

Kin raised an eyebrow at her.

“You didn’t ask him what he did?”

“I did, but I didn’t really understand most of the words he used. I’m a bounty hunter, not an engineer.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Kin rolled his eyes. “How long have you been flying this monster?”

“About five years.” This time, both eyebrows went up, pulling at the scar on his face.

“And it hasn’t killed you yet? Stang. You’re the luckiest Jango Jumper in the Galaxy, then.”

Kin shrugged, and pulled his bag from his shoulder. “Right. I’m assuming you’ve at least got schematics. I need ‘em if I’m gonna fix this.”

Alina nodded. 

“I’ll put them on a chip for you.” 

When she came back, schematics in hand, Kin was eyeing the starboard engine.

“This a Sienar?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, yeah it is. Why, is it seconds away from blowing up on me?” she asked, with a wry grin. To her surprise, the mechanic’s mouth quirked up as well. 

Well, what did you know. Not completely emotionless, then. 

“Nah. I just haven’t seen one in a while, that’s all. Most of the sleemo out here can’t afford ‘em.”

He was right. Sienar engines were rare in the Outer Rim. Alina’s had come from a salvage op on a crashed GAR transport a few years before. She smirked.

“Well, like you said, lucky Jango Jumper here. Now, can we get started? I got a job to finish.”

Kin nodded, grabbed his kit, and followed her up to the cockpit.  


* 

* 

* 

* 

Kin Starseeker had never seen a navicomputer behave like this. Then again, he’d never seen a ship that looked like it had been soldered together from the remains of a Separatist battle group, either. Fortunately, this particular navicomputer wasn’t damaged, which probably just meant one of the wires had come loose. Behind him, the Tarrelian woman had started scuffing her boot back and forth across the cockpit floor, clearly anxious about her ship. Kin sympathized, but the noise was driving him insane. He was about to turn and ask her to wait outside when a sudden wave of foreboding crashed over him.

A few seconds later came the distinctive scream of a TIE rocketing over Mos Eisley. His mechanical hand clenched, hard enough to make the durasteel joints groan, but he kept his face blank. His client was less opaque.

“Kriff!” she breathed. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” he said, “It’s probably nothing.” Which was complete bantha-shit. There were only two reasons a TIE would be in Tatooine’s atmosphere: either its transport was damaged, or the Imps were looking for someone. And only one of those would explain the intense and involuntary urge to jump out of his own skin.

Kin’s retirement, it seemed, was over. 

“You got that computer working?” asked the Tarrelian. “I don’t wanna stick around for whatever’s about to go down here.” 

No kidding.

“Yeah, I just gotta connect this.” The wire sparked as he pushed it back into its socket, burning hot against his gloved fingertips. The navicomputer chirped and came back into focus. “You’re good to go.” He replaced the panels covering the wiring, then straightened, rolling his shoulders. She held out the credits, but he didn’t take them, speaking instead.

“I’ve got a real funny feeling I’m not gonna be sticking around this dustball much longer. Any chance I could hitch a ride to wherever you’re going?” The bounty hunter  
shrugged.

“If you’re leaving in the next hour, and you’ve got credits, then sure. Meet me back here as soon as you’re ready. Wait too long though, and this docking bay will be empty when you get here.” Kin didn’t even spare her a nod before taking off down the ramp and through the city. As he reached the street that had been his home for the past 8 years, the sense of imminent danger went twisting around him again, this time with a horribly familiar note.

 _Angerfearhatedarkness._ Sith. 

Only one reason for a Sith to be on Tatooine.

Kin swore fluently in Huttese, then bolted up to the second building in the row and opened the door with a hastily punched code. The old Dug sitting at a desk in the corner took one look at his face, and called,

“Leia, get on out here, your father’s here!” before pulling a blaster out from under her desk. Leia appeared then, from the back room, a palli in her hand. Upon seeing her father, the fruit dropped to the floor. Kin flashed her a quick (and very fake) grin, knowing it wouldn't do much to reassure her. 

She felt things too, after all.

“Listen, Mirilba, we have to go. Can you tell Gannara?” Mirilba nodded, checking the safety on her blaster.

“Good luck, boy. You take care of your dad, you hear me?” Leia, worry gathering in her eight-year-old eyes, threw her arms around the Dug’s spindly neck, then came over and grabbed his hand.

Packing was a quick thing: Kin had had supplies ready to go the entire time they’d lived on Tatooine. All he had to do was add Leia’s stuffed Bantha(called General Pookums) to the top of the bag. Well that, and retrieve the elegantly crafted piece of durasteel from its hollow space in the wall and drop it in as well. He threw a leather jacket on, wrapped his daughter in a hooded poncho, and then went to the bottom left kitchen cabinet and punched a button on the little receiver wired through the wall. 

“Come on, Little Princess.” He said quietly. “We’ve gotta head out, alright?”

Though her eyes were bright with frightened tears, Leia nodded, clutching his hand.

They reached the end of the street as the Sith landed on the planet. Kin looked down at Leia. 

“We’re gonna have to run, Princess. I’m gonna carry you, ok?” He knelt and let her climb onto his back, locking skinny arms around his neck. They’d done this a million times, playing this game or that. 

The irony was not lost on him.

He walked with urgency, but he did not run, not even as they passed a squad of Stormtroopers. Not searching. Not yet.

Over everything, he could feel the Sith, a twisted knot of darkness, and prayed the creature could not feel him. 

Kin thanked whatever gods were left in the Galaxy when they reached the Tarrelian’s bay. Leia gracefully slipped down, and resumed her death grip on his hand.

Kin Starseeker squeezed his daughter’s hand, pulled the lightsaber from its spot in the bag, and clipped it to his belt, its weight a familiar and welcome burden, grounding him and warding off the low level panic that had been on the edges of his mind since the first warning. 

He pushed the flashing button on his right wrist, and then guided Leia up the ramp as their little domed house, their relatively peaceful life on Tatooine, and Kin Starseeker went up in a ball of flame. 

As the navicomputer calculated their coordinates, Anakin Skywalker grinned savagely, and let his shields down, broadcasting his Force presence to the entire planet. There was just enough time to feel a surge of _furyfrustrationfearFAILURE_ from the Sith before the ship jumped to hyperspace.


	2. Obi-Wan Kenobi Makes a Second Attempt to Teach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Taryk arrive at their new home/hiding place. Obi-Wan's past manages to follow him.

20 BBY, Corellia, Capital city of Coronet

“Is the blue all water?” asked Taryk, nose practically pressed to the transparisteel port viewer. Obi-Wan smiled, remembering his own first sight of a planet other than Coruscant or Ilum.

“Yes.” he answered, “Corellia has a very diverse landscape.”

“It’s amazing.” said the boy simply. Obi-Wan agreed, but said nothing.

He did join Taryk, though, as their transport passed by the floating shipyards. His young charge’s attention was immediately captured by the newly-constructed Star Destroyer in the nearest yard.

There was no decoration, only cold gray durasteel. 

_Dominance_ , read its nameplate.

He tore his eyes from the warship, so similar and yet somehow the antithesis of the GAR starcruisers he’d commanded. He released the reflexive upsurge of _feargriefnausea_ that accompanied the memories into the Force, closing his eyes briefly in pain. Taryk, sensing his discomfort, looked up at him with concerned gray eyes. He waved a hand, reassuring the boy, he hoped. 

They did not speak again until the transport touched down in Coronet’s main spaceport. Obi-Wan turned his gaze up at the sinking sun.

“If we’re going to find lodging before nightfall, my boy, we’d best be on our way.” Taryk nodded, and followed along.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
They rented a room above a cantina, the Cheerful Dug. Master Kenobi had chuckled at thesign, and muttered something that sounded like “That’ll be the day.”

Taryk wasn’t sure why Master Kenobi wanted to live in the city. For himself, he thought he’d prefer the quiet rural villages that dotted the planet’s surface. Maybe Master Kenobi meant for them to blend in to the crowds.

As Taryk set their bags down, his Master moved around the suite. It was a small place, little more than a bed, sofa and fresher. Still, it was bigger than Taryk’s room at the Temple had been.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Master Kenobi was running his hands along the undecorated walls. Taryk was about to ask what he was doing when the Jedi Master knocked a fist against the durasteel. The sound was hollow, as if there was a space behind the wall. Kenobi nodded to himself, then reached for his lightsaber, igniting the blue blade and sinking it into the wall. He cut a small square hole in the wall near the floor, careful to keep the removed piece intact. He deactivated his ‘saber, and slipped it into the hollow space, then looked over at Taryk.

“May I?” he asked, holding out one hand. Feeling numb, and vaguely stupid, Taryk nodded mutely and handed his own lightsaber, the one he’d spent weeks constructing almost three years ago, to his Master. Kenobi placed it down next to his own, then replaced the section of wall. The metal, still glowing red, fused easily back together. Taryk felt the absence of his ‘saber like a hole in his heart. 

One more thing the Empire had taken from him.

“Right then,” said Kenobi softly. “That should hide them reasonably well.” He smiled sadly at Taryk, and sank onto the sofa. “So,” he said, still speaking quietly, “Your training is going to be a little different than what you prepared for, I think.” Taryk, unsure if he should speak, simply nodded. His Master looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “You can talk, you know.” He said, and this time there was a spark of humor in his eyes. 

The corner of Taryk’s mouth twitched up. 

“Sorry, Master, I-I know it’s going to be different, but-if we have to hide, how am I going to learn all the things I need to know?” This last part came out in a rush, all the words running together.

He’d been living with the Jedi Master for six months now, but had never been alone with him. And, despite himself, he was a little in awe of Master Kenobi. After all, the man was famous. He’d been a celebrity back at the Temple, before-

Taryk crushed that train of thought.

Kenobi smiled warmly, eyes crinkling.

“First, I think we should come up with different ways of addressing each other, as “master” and “padawan” are fairly recognizable terms to beings from the Inner Core. I think I’ll also need to change my name, and maybe my face as well. Would you be averse to calling me Uncle?”

Taryk’s first instinct was to laugh, and he couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his mouth. To think that he, 13 year old Jedi Youngling, would be Obi-Wan Kenobi’s nephew! Still fighting the slightly hysterical urge to burst out laughing, he nodded.

“I think I could do that, M-uh, Uncle.”

“Uncle Ben it is, then,” said Kenobi. He too, seemed to find the situation amusing, if the spark in his gray eyes was anything to go by. “As to the rest, we’ll have to-improvise.” Another smile, this one fond and a little sad. “I think I can teach you dueling with vibroblades, and so long as we’re very, very discreet and keep well informed of Imperial presence in the city, we can practice with the Force fairly normally. Meditation, of course, is easy.” Taryk raised an eyebrow. “Well, not easy to learn, but easy enough to do discreetly.” clarified Kenobi. “What is it?” he asked, as Taryk dropped his gaze to the floor.

“It’s just-I wasn’t sure I’d ever be a Padawan, even with the war. I’m-I’m not very good.” It still hurt to admit. He couldn’t help but think that if Order 66 had never come through, he’d probably have been assigned to the Service Corps by now. It was a confusing thought. Did that make him somehow grateful for the horror that had gotten him here?

Kenobi leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t worry,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I have a track record with unusual apprentices. I’m sure we’ll be just fine. Can I tell you a secret?” 

Taryk nodded, unsure what was coming.

“I was old when I was chosen as well. I’d given up all hope of becoming a Knight when my Master met me.”

“Really?” asked Taryk. He wouldn’t have believed it, except that he could feel the truth in the Force. “You?”

His teacher smiled again. 

“Yes, me. You’re joining a proud tradition of odd Padawans, young Taryk.”  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Taryk hadn’t been lying, though he’d certainly exaggerated a bit. His dueling left quite a lot to be desired, and he had a hard time connecting to the Force in the physical world. On the other hand, Taryk had a natural talent for sensing the intentions of others, including non-Force Sensitives. Their first day on Corellia, he’d managed to save Obi-Wan from getting swindled at a weapons shop because he could sense the subtly disingenuous undercurrent of the clerk’s sales pitch.  


He was also very, very good at meditating, to Obi-Wan’s immense amusement. More than once, he’d had the thought that the teen was a better meditator than he himself was, and he was undoubtedly better at it than his first apprentice. Taryk could easily empty his mind and calm himself, and he had no difficulty in accessing the Force while sunk into a trance. 

_He’d have made a good healer, Bant. And Anakin, you could stand to learn from him._

Of course, they did more than train. Obi-Wan had gotten a job writing for the local paper, which allowed him to stay abreast of Imperial visits and functions, even if it turned his stomach to write propaganda pieces. At 13, Taryk was too young to do any official work, but he was the unofficial busboy for the cantina they lived above, and he was a talented eavesdropper.

All in all, Taryk Rovan was a completely different challenge altogether than Anakin had been, for which Obi-Wan was grateful. At least this apprentice wasn’t likely to go diving into oncoming speeder traffic (Taryk was not a fan of open cockpit flying)

And between the two of them, nothing happened on Corellia, or in most smuggling circles, that they didn’t know about.

So it was that Obi-Wan Kenobi heard of Assaj Ventress’ arrival on Corellia barely three weeks after moving there himself.

The Cheerful Dug was doing a good business when he walked in. He nodded to the Tholothian bartender, Amaran.

“Is my nephew around?” he asked, resting his elbows on the bar.

“Yeah. ‘E’s upstairs, as far as I know.” Obi-Wan nodded, then pushed away from the bar and headed up.

As promised, Taryk was sitting on the floor of their rooms, eyes closed, sunk into a light trance. Obi-Wan roused him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Afternoon.” Taryk grinned at him.

“You’ll never guess what I heard today, Uncle!” 

“Careful what you assume. I’ve a certain talent for precognition, after all.” The boy laughed.

“Well, alright then. What am I going to tell you?” He stood up and crossed his arms, amused.

Obi-Wan chuckled and ran a hand over his chin, still not used to the lack of a beard.

“I assume it’s not that the Emperor’s dropped dead?” Taryk snorted.

“I wish. No, I heard there’s a new bounty hunter in town. Apparently she’s setting up shop permanently. Got a real reputation, too. The Spacer lunch crowd were all talking about her. According to them, she uses lightsabers.”

Obi-Wan went stiff. He knew of only one bounty hunter who owned lightsabers. He reached out into the Force, looking-there. It _was_ her.

“You’re sure? A lightsaber-wielding female bounty hunter?” Taryk nodded. 

“Yeah. Why, do you know her?”

“I believe I do.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, I don’t know whether her presence here is a good thing or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I'm iffy with writing Obi-Wan. I'm not sure I managed to capture his sass. I think he'd make a really good master now that he's had a chance to actually grow up, and move on from Qui-Gon's death.


	3. Sheev is Just Plain Rude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Apprentice introduces himself. Surrounded by the Dark Side, Padme worries for her husband.

14 BBY, Coruscant

There was only one room on the top floor of the Imperial Palace. It was all black durasteel, with the barest hint of light, not quite enough to see by. With the red robed Imperial Guards in double rows up to the seat itself, the Imperial Throne Room was an imposing sight, meant to strike fear into its visitors, no matter how loyal to the Emperor they might be. 

To Darth Malefus, it was an aspiration.

As he walked down the long room, boots clicking on the durasteel floor, the Sith apprentice allowed a smirk to cross his face. Today was a good day, after all. Today, he’d defeated a Jedi Master. Let his master find fault in _that._

“Have you been successful, Apprentice?" 

Malefus dropped to one knee before the throne, bowing his head, as was expected. 

“I have, Master. The Jedi is dead.” 

“Well done.” The figure on the throne was as inscrutable as ever. It was impossible to tell what Sidious was thinking, unless he wanted you to know. “Now continue your mission. You will rest when all the survivors are dead. Never forget, you were not the apprentice I wanted.” 

Malefus couldn’t stop the sharp spike of anger at Sidious’ comment. As if he didn’t know already! He wished more than anything that the Skywalker brat hadn’t died in 66, that he might kill him and show his Master who deserved to be a true Sith Lord. 

Darth Sidious waved a wasted hand in dismissal. 

Good mood effectively destroyed, Malefus stalked back down the long throne room, cloak fluttering impressively in his wake. The guards did not react to his presence. Behind him, a smile twisted the old Sith Lord’s thin lips. He did so enjoy tormenting his apprentice. It almost made up for his not being the Chosen One. 

Sidious’ amusement at his expense followed him, whispering over his skin in the Force, all the way across the city to the Senate building. Four Senators came within a hairsbreadth of death as he swept through the halls. Fools. Should know better than to speak to a Sith Lord without permission. Cursing his master’s insistence that he be a visible presence in the Senate, Malefus dropped into his desk chair. In an attempt to recover his good humor, he called up his memory of the day before, of sinking his blade into the Jedi’s pale green chest, his Nautolan eyes widening in shocked agony. 

Ah, yes. That was better. 

Able to focus again, Malefus turned his attention to the waiting hologram from his agent in the Outer Rim.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
“Liar! You’re with him! You brought him here to kill me!” 

Padmé Naberrie Amidala Skywalker came awake gasping for air, panic wracking her limbs. She brought trembling fingers to her throat, still feeling the invisible force around her windpipe, cutting off her air. Could still see her husband’s face, twisted in fury, strange golden eyes burning with madness. Except, somehow, she knew it wasn’t madness. 

Only Anakin, the worst of him. 

Padmé was still shaking, unable to calm herself. She needed Luke. She needed her son. He was proof that her dream was only that, a dream. 

But Luke wasn’t here, he’d been begging all week to spend the night with Senator Chuchi’s son, and she’d finally relented that morning. All she could do was sit and reassure herself that she could breathe, that her husband wasn’t trying to kill her. 

She stood. If she couldn’t sleep anymore, she’d at least get some work done. The first thing she did was open the widows, flooding her dark apartment with synthetic light from the city. It wasn’t as good as the Nubian sunshine, but it was better than the darkness. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling of golden eyes watching her. 

Despite her earlier thought of getting work done, Padmé found herself in Luke’s bedroom, looking at his neatly made bed. She reached out and picked up his stuffed Nuna, pressing it to her breast. If she’d been Force-sensitive, might she be able to feel her son’s presence on his favorite toy? 

She felt nothing from the Nuna, but just then, she did feel a gentle hand against the small of her back. 

It should have been frightening. She should have jumped, dived back for her bed. But with the phantom touch came a wash of calm that stilled her shaking shoulders more than any breathing exercise ever could. She could almost hear the words, in a low voice, slightly accented and roughened by sand. 

Anakin.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
“Senator, you don’t look well. Are you alright?” Bail had turned polite indifference into an art form. His words were perfectly formal, all insincere concern. 

“I’m alright,” she said. Then, softer, “I just haven’t been sleeping well.” There was a brief flash of real worry in his amber eyes, then it was gone, and he responded, 

“Well, you should take better care of yourself. If I’m going to be working with you, I’d like you at your best.” Palpatine had placed them on the planning committee for this years’  
Empire Day celebration, which was ironic on several levels, not the least of which being that Bail was organizing an armed resistance movement against the aforementioned Empire. 

Padmé put a smile on her face, just in time for Lord Malefus to enter the office, a condescending smile on his pale face. Malefus was a young man, tall and thin, and possessed of a certain disturbingly magnetic charm. It was his eyes, though, specifically their unnatural gold coloring, that drew her horrified attention. Only 20 years of experience in politics kept her face from betraying her. Normally, she affected admiration and warm civility for the Sith apprentice (not that she was meant to know he was anything more than a special agent) but after last night, she just couldn’t do it. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Senator Organa, Lord Malefus, I need to prepare for this afternoon’s session.” Both men nodded to her, and Malefus graciously stepped aside to give her room to pass. 

Did she see Anakin in the set of the Sith’s shoulders? In the way he carried himself, as though there was nothing he could not destroy? No. _No._ She shook herself. 

Head held high, not looking at Malefus, Padmé walked through the office doorway. Not until she was back in her own office, the door sealed behind her, did she let the tears come. 

It was hours later, as she hugged Luke tight to her while he babbled about his day, that she finally felt at ease again.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
The dreams continued. They showed her different things each time. Anakin, cutting down Jedi like so many battle droids, Anakin, kneeling before Palpatine, calling him “Master”, and, worst of all, Anakin, burning, screaming that he hated her. Sometimes, she saw a black armored monstrosity and, somehow, she knew that was Anakin too, murdering force-sensitive children with a ruby red lightsaber. 

“Very well.” Even through a holo, Palpatine’s voice was all croaking menace. “The Imperial banners will henceforth be at least four meters wide. We are adjourned for the week. I thank you, Senators, for your commitment in this important issue.” Despite all her practice at ignoring the disturbing things said in session these days, Padmé couldn’t keep her fist from clenching under her voting display. 

Sometimes, she really hated Coruscant. 

“Senator Amidala,” Bail’s call reached her just as she left the Senate Chamber. She turned, and nodded in acknowledgment. “I just wanted to touch base with you about the ice sculptures for next week.” he said, walking up to her. 

Right. The fifth Empire Day celebration. Wasn’t _that_ a pleasant thing to look forward to 

“Of course,” she said. “I think five is a good number. Symbolic, and all that.” He smiled. 

“Yes, I agree.” As he swept past her, his hand brushed against hers, the movement hidden by their robes. No one would see the datachip that passed between them. As session was out for the week, Padmé felt no shame in going home to view whatever was on it, rather than to her office. 

Besides, her apartment was swept daily for bugs. 

She had no idea what might be on the chip. Bail had never risked slipping anything to her before today; there were simply too many eyes on them. In the four months since her nightmares begun, they’d had exactly one personal conversation. 

Whatever was on the chip in her pocket was important. 

She locked the door behind her and crossed to her bedroom, retrieving her private datapad from its spot under her mattress. The chip slotted into place with a click, and started playing the holo recorded onto it. 

Her fingers went to her trembling lips as the holo crackled, then solidified. 

_He cut his hair_ , was her first, absurd thought. Then, _Oh Gods, it’s really him._

“Hello, love.” said Anakin. “I hear you’re worried about me. That’s just like you, to be worrying about me when you live within four miles of a Sith Lord.” he smiled fondly. “I’m fine, my love, I swear. I’ve got a job playing with droids, and we’re both as happy as can be expected, given where we live. I miss you every single day, and she asks about you a lot. Tell Luke his dad loves him, alright? I love you so, so much, and I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Angel.” He smiled again as the recording looped. 

Padmé listened to it twice more, then destroyed the chip, grinding it into the floor with her heel, and then tossing it into the fireplace she insisted on having. 

His voice played in her head as the chip burned. 

She dreamed of him that night, but instead of madness and fury, there was only love in his desert-blue eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my favorite bit so far. Angsty pining Anidala is beautiful, idgaf. Also let me know if you like Malefus. He kind of just grabbed his PoV and ran with it. I will get to Ahsoka, I promise, and also action. I really want to write some action. Please let me know what you think! I live for reviews. In case you're wondering, the Jedi Master that Malefus murders is Kit Fisto, who escaped the Temple in "I Know."


	4. Insurgency is the New Peacekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka and Co. stick it to the Empire.

Empire Day, 14 BBY. Mandalore, Capital City of Keldabe

An Imperial parade was an impressive show of force, he had to admit. First came the walkers, all two-legged AT-STs today. No need for the big guys here, this was just a show of “Patriotic feeling.” Following the AT-STs was platoon after platoon of immaculate Stormtroopers, all in perfectly straight lines. “The Pride of the Empire,” proclaimed the banner fluttering on the breeze.

From his spot on a roof, Rex snorted. 

“Pride of the Empire, my ass.” growled the man next to him, voice muffled by the scarf he wore to obscure his face.

“Less chatter, more rifle assembly, Jesse.” said Rex, though he had to grin at his brother’s dig.

Stormtroopers, after all, were an affront to everything he’d been bred for.

Rex brought his specs up, scanning the crowds around the city center. Ahsoka was easy to find, as usual, her blue and white Montrals standing out among the fair human heads around her. Beside her, just as planned, stood Ko-Iri, her coppery hair shining under the sun. Across the Parade Route, he picked out Mashan’s horns. Kix, if everything had gone well, would be with Zatt behind the huge display background of the stage.

Rex was a little worried about the younger kids. Zatt, at least, had been with them for a couple of years now, and at 15, was older than Ahsoka had been when she’d gone into the field. Ko-Iri and Mashan, though, had arrived from Dagobah via refugee shuttle less than a month ago.

It was their very first op with Torrent cell. Ahsoka insisted they could handle it, and Rex had been fighting alongside her long enough to trust her words with his life, but he was worried all the same. They were just kids.

The parade was winding up. The Grand Finale, some awards presentation, was to start in less than a minute. Beside him, Jesse slotted the last piece of his rifle into place, nodding sharply up at Rex. 

“Domino One, this is Two and Four. We are good to go up top.” There was no reply, but Ahsoka shot a hand signal to Mashan, before turning and slipping between the parade goers, making her way slowly closer to the stage in the square. Ko-Iri followed. 

Operation Resurgence was go.

Down in the square, Mandalore’s Imperial governor, one Moff Vizer, climbed the steps up to the stage, a squad of troopers in his wake. He took the podium to wild applause.  
Rex rolled his eyes. Beside him, Jesse made a rude gesture at the crowd.

Vizer was speaking now, some shavit about the valor of the officers being awarded. Rex brought his specs around to the display screen to Vizer's right. Ahsoka, head now swathed in black, was crouched in the shadows at its base. Ko-Iri and Mashan were pressed flat at the base of the other two boards.

“They’re in position. Take your aim and wait for the signal.” Jesse nodded and leveled the sniper rifle, looking down the barrel to find his target.

Just as Vizer’s speech came to an end, (“and may the Empire last a thousand more years!”) three black canisters rolled across the stage, and three black-clad figures slipped off to the sides. Red smoke poured out of the canisters, quickly obscuring the entire stage. Rex grinned.

Just a second too late, he heard the boots on the rook behind them.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be up here!” The voice was distant, they had a few moments. He looked down at his brother. 

Jesse squeezed off his shot, then slung the rifle across his shoulders and spun around to face the approaching Stormtroopers.

Down in the square, several someones were screaming. Rex could only hope the shot had hit its target. 

“What are you doing up here? This isn’t public space!” The two troopers stopped a few feet away. 

“Oh, sorry,” said Rex, desperately hoping the rifle was out of sight. If they could avoid suspicion, it would make escaping that much easier. “We-uh-wanted a good seat for the show, you know?” 

“Well, this isn’t approved seating, Citizen.”

“Sorry.” said Rex. “We’ll just go, then. Come on, Jesse.” As he made to walk toward them though, he heard the telltale burst of static that always preceded comm chatter. He wasn’t about to wait to hear whether it was orders to detain all citizens for questioning. 

Rex threw himself forward, slamming his booted foot into the lead trooper’s stomach. At the same time, he pulled one DC from its holster and fired twice, the bolts going through the cheap armor like plastic. 

“We’d better split,” he said. “More will be coming to investigate.” 

As if on cue, the door onto the rook burst open, revealing a jumble of black and white armor. 

“Kriff!” 

“Go!” Rex went, sprinting for the emergency stairs along the side of the building. He spun his other pistol out of its holster as he ran, firing over his shoulder. Red bolts flew around him. One struck his back, but his Phase 2 gear absorbed the shot. Take that, Stormtroopers. 

He vaulted the last two flights of stairs, tucking into a roll to absorb the impact. Jesse joined him as he came upright, and they took off down the alley, the ends of Jesse’s scarf fluttering behind them.

He commed Ahsoka as they ran. Her voice came through, breathless and hushed.

“They made us. We had to split up.”

“Same on our end,” he said, “Rendezvous then?”

“The standard. I’ll see you there.” The comm crackled off.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Ahsoka clenched her teeth as her montrals picked up boots behind her. She’d been dodging through Keldabe’s alleys for the past four hours, trying to lose her pursuers.

Stormtroopers were persistent, she’d give them that. Hopefully, she’d at least managed to draw them off of Ko-Iri and Mashan. She hadn’t lied to Rex, they were perfectly capable of handling themselves, but that didn't mean she wanted them facing Imps alone just yet.

She stopped running in an alley framed by particularly tall buildings. Reaching for the Force, she leapt high, catching a tiny handhold on the durasteel. The footsteps got steadily closer, and within 90 seconds, a standard squad, six troopers and a gray-uniformed officer, rounded the corner. Ahsoka pressed herself against the wall, gathering the Force around herself. As they passed underneath her, she leapt, drawing her lightsabers. She landed in a blur of green and yellow, taking two armored heads off before sinking into her favorite stance. Ignoring alarmed shouts of “Jedi!”, Ahsoka deflected their shots and rolled forward, slashing neatly through blasters, then bodies. The officer was the last one standing. Ahsoka took out his comm with a precise graze along his arm, backflipped over his head, and ran him through before he could bring his blaster to bear on her. 

It never failed to strike her, how similar destroying droids was to killing sentients.

Sentients who wanted to kill everyone she loved, but still, sentients.

Pursuers lost, Ahsoka wasted no time in getting to the rendezvous point, which was the basement of an empty house in Keldabe’s western sector. While the run-down buildings and seedy bars might make the average Mando’a nervous, Ahsoka felt welcome. 

There was no Imperial presence here. Not yet, anyway. And no one looked twice at hooded figures. It reminded her of Coruscant, in that way.

Zatt and Kix were already there, eating some kind of soup. Ahsoka took the bowl Zatt offered her and settled down next to the Nautolan.

“Welcome back, Ahsoka,” said the boy, with a wide grin. Ahsoka returned his smile, and blew on her soup.

“I take it your part of the mission went well, then?” As Zatt’s mouth was full of soup, Kix answered.

“Yes, Sir,” he said. “Zatt here could make good money as a slicer if he wanted to, and I’ve got it all recorded.” The man pulled a transmitter from his belt, and pressed play. 

The recording showed the stage area, from the moment the smoke bombs had gone off. Ahsoka, having had to split before any of the real action had begun, watched with interest.

The rifle shot was a blue on blue streak, impacting the stage half an inch from Vizer’s foot. Jesse had always been a hell of a shot. The Stormtroopers were in chaos, searching in vain through the red smoke to find the source of the shot. When the smoke finally cleared, the two peripheral display boards were showing the GAR sigil, and in the center, flickering in and out of focus, was the symbol of the Jedi Order. “DEFEATED, NOT DESTROYED”, was emblazoned in bold red text on all three screens. 

“Perfect,” said Ahsoka. “Do we know when the official broadcast cut out?”

“Yeah,” piped up Zatt. “Right after the smoke bombs went off. Guess the Imps didn’t want anyone to see they were vulnerable.” 

“Yeah, we’ll fix that tomorrow,” came Rex’s voice from the doorway. Ahsoka grinned brightly at them.

“What took you guys so long?” she asked. 

“We ran into a couple of competent bucket-heads. Jesse here nearly died of shock.” Jesse, who was in the process of unwrapping his head scarf, flipped Rex off, to laughs from the other four.

“Where are the kids?” he asked, pulling the scarf away to reveal his GAR tattoo. Ahsoka’s smile died.

“We got separated. I told them to lay low for a few hours, then come here. They should be here any minute.”

She knew the two teens were smart and capable, but dodging Imperial officers was different kettle of Giju from training with one other kid and a 900 year old Jedi Master in an isolated swamp. Force, she hoped they’d done as she’d told them.

Feeling a sudden rush of sympathy for Anakin, and, even more so, Obi-Wan (Force, they’d both been so reckless, she didn’t know how he was still _alive_ , let alone sane) Ahsoka picked nervously at her fingernails, keeping her eyes on the doorway while the others talked. Rex, seeing her worry, settled next to her on the bench and took her hand in his big warm one. Sighing, she leaned against his shoulder, ignoring the way his armor dug into her skin.

She needn’t have worried. Less than five minutes after Rex and Jesse’s arrival, the basement door opened to reveal two slight, tired-looking figures. Ko-Iri, red hair falling out of its braid, waved jauntily at the rest of Torrent cell. Beside her, Mashan wiped a smear of Force-knew-what from his cheek and grinned.

“Did we miss dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ahsoka is basically Jedi Space Aunt. Btw, all four of my main character groups are gonna have a chapter that takes place on the Fifth Empire Day. This is Torrent Cell's. I couldn't resist the nod to Rex's company of the 501st. I'm also throwing the canon development of the Rebel Alliance out the window. At this point, it hasn't been consolidated, but there are several cells spread out across the Outer Rim planets. It also doesn't have an official sigil yet, hence Torrent's use of the Jedi symbol instead.


	5. Bail Organa's Life Gets Significantly More Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Empire gains some valuable information, with dire consequences for the survivors of Order 66 and the Rebel Alliance.

10 BBY. Aldera Palace, Aldera, Alderaan

Bail Organa stared in open-mouthed horror at the text in front of him, unable to think past the wall of panic in his mind. 

_They have a passenger from the Jewel of Alderaan. Identities of all onboard compromised._

Bail sat frozen for five more seconds, then snatched up the hidden commlink in his belt, and punched in 441-004. The call was answered almost immediately by a tall woman in white and gold.

“Mon,” he said, not waiting for her greeting. “I need a safe place. We’ve just been severely compromised.”  
*  
*  
*  
*  
The Same Day, Coruscant

Senator Padmé Amidala sank onto her sofa, cup of Nubian Jinra tea in hand. Across the sitting room, her oldest friend looked up from her datapad.

“Isn’t Luke due home about now?” asked Sabé. Padmé smiled over at the other woman. 

“Yes, any minute now. You know, Sabé, you’re not my handmaiden anymore. I’m happy to have you visit, but you didn’t have to come all the way to Coruscant just to escort me to dinner.” Sabé laughed. 

“Of course not, but somebody has to watch your back. Besides, it’s been ages since the last time I saw Coruscant. Or you and Luke,” she added, with a mock reproving look.

“I know,” Padmé sighed. “It’s been too long since my last vacation, but Luke’s been so excited about school lately, I hate to pull him away from it.” As she finished speaking, the apartment door slid open, revealing the subject of their conversation.

Luke Amidala came into the room, spotted Sabé, and sprinted over to fling his arms around her waist.

“Aunt Sabé! I missed you!” The small woman smiled, swinging Luke around in a circle.

“Your Auntie missed you too, little Luke!” she said as she set him back on his feet.

“How was school, sweetheart?” asked Padmé, as Luke came over to hug her as well. His face lit up, were it possible, even more.

“We’re learning about the Clone Wars!” he said excitedly to Sabé. Turning back to his mother, Luke started narrating his day. Padmé listened with one ear, until she caught out a familiar word.

“-and she said the Jedi Generals used to-“ 

“Did you say Jedi?” interrupted Padmé, tone harsher than she’d meant it. Luke, with his eight-year-old innocence, didn’t notice. His class had been studying the Clone Wars for the past week, but she’d assumed they wouldn’t talk about the Jedi.

“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “The Jedi were the leaders of all the Clones, Mom! We got to watch some wizard holos of them! Too bad they were traitors in the end, huh? I thought they seemed totally wizard. There was even this one who was supposed to be an astral pilot! Just like I want to be!” 

Padmé wasn’t surprised he’d picked that detail out. Ever since she’d told him that his father had been a pilot in the Clone Wars, Luke had been adamant about becoming one as well. What was surprising was that the school had access to old holoreels from the Clone Wars. Of course, it made some sense as well. Make the Jedi, and their supposed betrayal of the Republic, common knowledge to the next generation, and they would never become legends. It was a political masterstroke, now that she thought about it, perfectly in character for Palpatine.

Luke, meanwhile was still chattering.

“-and the reporters had these astral nicknames for all the Jedi and their troops, like The Negotiator and the Hero With No Fear!” Padmé couldn’t help but flinch at the last bit. 

Unfortunately, Luke _did_ catch that.  
“Is something wrong, Mom?” 

“Ah, no, sweetheart, it’s just-the end of the war was a hard time.” Although she knew the answer would hurt, she couldn’t help but ask, “What sort of holoreels did you get to watch?” Luke, relieved that she was alright, happily answered.

“It was a segment from the Second Battle of Geonosis! There were four Jedi there, Mom! Luminara Unduli, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi! Anakin Skywalker was the one called the Hero With No Fear,” he added informatively. Padmé had to press her lips together to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter at the sheer irony. 

“Luke, sweetheart, you do remember the Jedi were traitors to the Republic, right?” Padmé thanked the gods for Sabé. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to keep it together for that particular lie. Luke shrugged.

“Yeah, Aunt Sabé, I know,” he said. “I still think they were astral, though. Especially the pilot one.” He turned back towards Padmé then. “Mom, you knew some of them, right? Were they astral?” 

Padmé was saved from having to answer him by her comm going off. Not her Senate comm, either, but the one she kept in her stocking. The one that only connected to three other commlinks in the Galaxy. Trepidation pricking at her mind, she pulled it out.

“This is Senator Amidala.” she said, some of her wariness bleeding into her voice. The message consisted of three short bursts of static. It was part of a coded system she’d memorized more than eight years ago.

Positions compromised. Get out.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Bail slammed his fist down onto his desk in anger, nearly four hours after he’d received the message from his informant with the Imperial Fleet. He’d gotten through to Padmé, who was in the most immediate danger, but the neither of the other two messages had gone through. There were only two possibilities as to why: either both Jedi’s comms had been destroyed, which seemed unlikely, or the Empire had begun jamming his communications between his message to Padmé and his attempted transmission to Master Skywalker.

He really, really didn’t want to think about what that meant. 

At least his order to Mon had been received. With any luck, Taryk had already pulled out. There was nothing on Master Tano and her cell that the Empire didn’t already know. And Padmé had been warned. He could only trust that Kenobi and Skywalker would handle themselves. 

It was too _soon_ , dammit! Two more years, and he’d have had the whole Alliance set up. As it was, they had several unconnected cells in the Outer Rim, an informal network of spies, and one general with actual combat experience. Well, provided the Jedi got out alive, they’d have three generals, but still.

They needed a fleet. Mon had been working on that. Her latest round of negotiations, with the Mon Cala this time, had been promising, but were as of yet unfinished, and now doubly important. 

Across the palace, he knew Breha was destroying all evidence of the Alliance. If his comms had been jammed, then the Empire knew of his involvement, and there would be Star Destroyers in Alderaan’s atmosphere within hours. Breha would not abandon her people and, in order to protect her, he was going to have to run before the Empire arrived. With him gone, she could claim to have had no knowledge of his treason. There was no guarantee that Palpatine would believe it, but even he couldn’t kill her without proof of anti-Imperial activities.

Half an hour later, his personal Corvette, Tantive IV rocketed out of the atmosphere. Standing in her cockpit, he watched the blue green surface of his home grow smaller and smaller, until it disappeared into stretched out stars.

He couldn’t shake the horrible feeling he’d never see Alderaan again.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Luke Naberrie Amidala was not stupid. He knew something was wrong, and he’d known it since his mother’s comm had gone off. He also knew that they were not, no matter what Mom said, going on vacation. Mom was always happy when they went to Naboo, but now, she was _scared_.

Luke’s mom was sad a lot, and she worried a lot, too, but he’d never felt her be scared. 

Luke was scared too, but not because his Mom was. No, there was Something in Luke’s head telling him to be scared, to run as far away as he could get from Coruscant. Everything felt cold and dark, even though Coruscant didn’t have a winter season, and the city’s lights were all on. It was just like the time he’d met Lord Malefus. He’d _known_ the man was bad, even though Mom told him not to be afraid.

Luke wasn’t sure why he had a Something, but he believed it when it when it told him stuff.

Mom and Aunt Sabé packed while Luke watched, holding his stuffed Nuna, General Jinn (he’d found the name in one of his datapads about Theed) to his chest. When Mom finished throwing things into their bags, which took less time than normal, (she wasn’t even folding things like she always told Luke to) she took Luke’s had in hers, and they left, locking the door behind them. 

Everyone, even C-3PO was really quiet on the way to Mom’s ship, which just proved something was wrong. C-3PO was _never_ quiet. Mom jumped every time someone came around the corner, and Aunt Sabé kept her hand on her blaster the whole time. She’d promised to teach Luke how to shoot it when he was old enough. Maybe, since they definitely weren’t going on vacation, Mom would let him learn now. 

Mom’s shiny Nubian transport ship was Luke’s favorite ship in the whole world, but even the sight of its silver hull didn’t cheer him up.

The Something was getting louder. It was like the time he’d gotten to watch a Star Destroyer take off from the docks, engines roaring as they cycled up. Except, Luke wasn’t _hearing_ the roar this time, he was feeling it, and it was making his head hurt.

On board the ship, his Mom strapped him into a seat right behind her in the cockpit. Sabé took the co-pilot’s seat, where Luke usually sat. Last time they’d gone to Naboo, she’d let Luke hit the hyperdrive lever when she said it was time. Today, she didn’t even look back at him as she switched on all the systems. Aunt Sabé did reach behind her and squeeze his knee, though. The ship rose smoothly. It never shook when Mom took off, because Mom was the ship’s favorite person in the whole Galaxy. It always shook when Captain Panaka was flying. Thinking about that, Luke smiled. He almost managed to tell himself everything would be okay as they glided out of the hangar.

That was when the wave of pure, terrifying fury crashed into him.

His head was splitting open, and he was going to be sick. Distantly, he could hear someone screaming, but all he could think about was how his head hurt and he was going to be sick and there was _angerdarknesscold_ everywhere and he couldn’t see anything but white and then there was nothing at all.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Below, on the planet’s surface, Emperor Palpatine, full time Galactic despot and Dark Lord of the Sith, tamped down on his fury. Even Sith Lords did not allow their emotions to control them, after all. In his own defense, he hadn’t been this angry since his favorite pet project had thrown 10 years of hard work out the window in a ridiculous show of nobility.

“Gone.” he said. The Grand Moff nodded.

“Yes, M’Lord. Her apartment is empty, and her ship is no longer in its hangar. We believe she’s already fled the system with the boy.”

“Find her, Grand Moff.” He didn’t add any threats. There was no need.

Tarkin knew what would await him if he failed.  
*  
*  
*  
*  
Across the Galaxy, at precisely the same time Luke Naberrie Amidala lost consciousness, Leia Skywalker regained it.

Breathing hard and still hearing the blond boy’s screams, Leia sat up. The dream had been awful, but the details were already slipping away, leaving her with only a sense of disquiet that wouldn’t let her go.

So, she did what she always did when she had bad dreams, and went to find Dad.

Clutching General Pookums to her stomach, Leia picked her way over the dismantled pit droids and their removed parts that had covered their floor for the past two days. (Dad was doing a side job for a Podracing manager) Dad was asleep on the sofa, snoring softly. Already feeling a little better, Leia tugged on his hand, and he cracked one eye open.

“Leia? ‘S’wrong?” 

“Had a bad dream.” she said. Dad opened his other eye and sat up, patting the sofa. She scrambled up and pressed herself against his side.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her. She shook her head.

“Don’t remember,” She said. “it was just scary.” Dad nodded, understanding, then leaned back into the sofa, stretching out his legs. “Can I stay?” she asked, and Dad smiled.

“ ’Course, Princess.” He murmured.

He rubbed gentle circles between her shoulders until she fell asleep again, curled against his side with General Pookums smooshed between them.

By morning, she’d forgotten her dream entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not supposed to make sense yet. It will make sense later. Yay for weird Twin Force Shenanigans. Luke has no idea what the Force is, btw. Padme thought it would be safer if he didn't know. Let me know if you have questions or comments!


	6. Asajj Ventress Does Some Psychoanalyzing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan passes the time on Corellia in a variety of ways. He also meets an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's some sexual content in this chapter. Nothing explicit, but it happens and it's not subtle. Also my headcanons for the Jedi attitude towards sex are incorporated here. If you don't want to read it, just skip the first scene.

18 BBY, Corellia, Capital City of Coronet

No matter how many times he tried, Obi-Wan didn’t think he’d ever get used to drinking caf. The rest of the Galaxy, it seemed, was in love with the stuff, and his former Padawan was more unpleasant than any Sith Lord before he’d downed at least three cups in the morning, but Obi-Wan had always preferred tea. However, the sleazy diner he was currently patronizing didn’t have any tea on its menu, and it was early morning, so there was a steaming mug of brown caf on the table in front of him. Sighing, Obi-Wan resigned himself to his fate and took a sip, pulling a face at the bitterness.

“You shouldn’t grimace, Darling, it’s not a good look on you.” He didn’t even need to look up.

“And I’m always so worried about your perception of me, Ventress.” She laughed, and slid into the bench across from him. 

“It’s good to see you, Kenobi.” she said, and he was surprised to hear the sincerity in her voice. His surprise must have shown on his face, because she cocked her head to one side and asked, “What? You’re being alive means the Empire’s not as all-powerful as its glorious leader seems to think it is. I hate the Sith just as much as you do, my dear Obi-Wan.” 

“I don’t doubt that. It was the Emperor who commanded Dooku to kill you, wasn’t it?” Ventress hissed between her teeth in anger, and Obi-Wan held up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to fight with you. I just wanted to let you know that I live here.”

“You’re placing a lot of trust in me, Master Kenobi,” she said, and she sounded honestly confused about it. “With just the information that you live, I could do you a great deal of harm.” Obi-Wan smiled at the former Sith apprentice.

“My dear, I know you hate the Sith. So do I. If I’m recalling our encounter with Maul and Savage Opress correctly, having a common enemy makes us allies, not enemies.”  
The woman looked at him like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are the strangest Jedi I have ever encountered.” Obi-Wan actually laughed at that. 

“I can honestly say I’ve never heard that before. Generally that assessment was reserved for my Padawan.” She snorted. 

“No, you’re a good deal more mysterious than he ever was.” Obi-Wan looked down. Talking about Anakin in the past tense was…difficult. Seeing his change in expression, Ventress’ smile died as well.

“I’m sorry. I know the two of you were close.” Surprised that she would be so sentimental as to offer him consolation, Obi-Wan looked up. She was watching him, something unfathomable in her ice-blue gaze. “I might have been a Sith, Obi-Wan, but I’m not completely without empathy.” Her tone was almost reproving, as though he should have known this already. And, thinking back on a few of their encounters, she was right.

So,” she said, after an awkward pause. “We’ll just let each other be, then?”

“Well,” said Obi-Wan, who was enjoying talking to an adult who actually understood something of what he’d gone through in the past six months rather more than he’d like to admit, “I don’t see why we can’t at least be allies. I do so miss our verbal spars, if not the physical ones.”

She didn’t say anything, just waved the waitress droid over, but her smile told Obi-Wan all he needed to know.

From there, it was only a matter of time before they found themselves in bed together. Obi-Wan would be even further in denial of his feelings than he normally was if he said he’d never found the Rattataki woman attractive. Their “verbal spars”, as he’d called them, had always had a teasing nature that had nothing to do with animosity and everything to do with mutual respect and attraction. 

And, well, Obi-Wan had never been particularly good at celibacy.

After the first time, they developed a simple arrangement. Sometimes, Ventress knocked on the widow on her way home from a job, and sometimes, he found himself outside her apartment after Taryk had gone to sleep. Either way, it ended the same way, with the pair of them gasping into each other’s mouths, and their Force signatures coming down from the sharp high that came from release. Sex had always made Obi-Wan feel more connected to the Living Force.

There were no romantics between them. Obi-Wan would not have dropped anything to go to her aid, nor she for him, and they both knew it. It was sex, plain and simple, with an occasional cup of tea in the mornings before they got dressed and went back to their own lives. 

If Taryk thought it odd that Obi-Wan was sleeping with someone, he didn’t mention it. Being a Jedi child, the boy had been introduced to the concept of sex fairly early, as well as the Jedi Order’s stance on it. 

Contrary to popular belief, Jedi were not required to be celibate. So long as no emotional attachments developed, Jedi were free to pursue whatever physical relationships they chose. Indeed, sex was encouraged among Padawans, Knights, and Masters alike, as sexual frustration was not exactly conducive to inner peace. Mace Windu and Ki-Adi-Mundi’s exploits, for example, had been common Temple gossip. Obi-Wan’s cohort had had a very loose attitude towards sex, and they’d all slept together at some point or another. Anakin’s cohort, in contrast, was very reserved, even for Jedi. To Obi-Wan’s knowledge, (and Obi-Wan knew quite a lot; the Jedi Order was no better than any other organization when it came to gossip) only Aayla Secura and Anakin himself had ever engaged in anything physical, and both of them had been faithful to their chosen partners, which was odd (and strongly discouraged) for the Order.

No, Taryk and Ventress actually got on fairly well, because she hadn’t told him her name, only that she knew Obi-Wan from the war. 

So the years passed for Ben Kenobi, his young apprentice, and Assaj Ventress.

*

*

*

*  
14 BBY, Corellia, Capital City of Coronet

Asajj Ventress hated Empire Day. She hated the parades, the Imperial Governor of Corellia’s annual speech about the glories of the Empire, and the way the CorSec were always anal about things they normally let slide (like her breaking the fingers of the son of a gundark who’d groped her ass last year.)

But mostly, she hated that everyone else seemed so damn excited about the holiday. There were always throngs of people at the parade, and their cheers as the Governor took the stage were sickening. How could these people not realize that they lived under a leader that would happily murder them all if he decided they were no longer useful to him? Non-Force sensitives could be so _stupid_ sometimes.

The first and second Empire Days Asajj had had to endure, she’d gotten dead drunk in her apartment. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, (and it was expensive; her Force sensitivity made it extremely difficult to get drunk) but it at least numbed the rage in her heart. Two years ago, though, instead of drinking, she’d knocked on Obi-Wan’s window and spent the day with him and his little apprentice, Taryk. To this day, she couldn’t explain to herself what had possessed her to do such a thing, but she hadn’t regretted it, either. Besides, any day that ended with her getting laid was alright, in her datachip. She’d seen no reason not to repeat the experience last year, and now, as her least favorite day of the year rolled around, she was here again.

Well, not exactly the same; she was using the door this time, after Kenobi’s exasperated “No one’s going to talk about you, and even if they did, why would you _care_ , Ventress?”

Obi-Wan opened the door. She didn’t say anything, just pushed past him into the little suite.

“Where’s your apprentice?” she asked noticing the lack of the dark-haired boy’s possessions strewn around the living area.

“He’s gone.” said Obi-Wan unhelpfully.

“Really?” she asked, sarcasm lacing the words. “And here I thought he was hiding under the sofa.” Obi-Wan snorted as she lounged across the piece of furniture in question.

“It’s really better you don’t know.” he said. “It’s to do with the Alliance. Besides, he’s learned all I can teach him.” Now it was Ventress’ turn to snort. He was so damn blasé, always acting like nothing phased him. It was ridiculous.

“I rather doubt that. He’s even younger than Skywalker was, if I’m not mistaken.” Obi-Wan hummed in acceptance.

“Well, this isn’t the Republic any more. He’s learned enough. I trust in his abilities.” He crossed his arms, done with the topic. “I have a proposition.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan, you know how I enjoy those.” She said, putting just enough mocking in her tone to keep him on his toes. She’d never admit it, but she did actually enjoy talking with the Jedi. He was funny, for one thing. 

Sith weren’t funny. Mocking and sarcastic, maybe, but not funny.

“I’ve got to attend the parade today.” Asajj made a face. Obi-Wan nodded. “I know, and I agree. It’s a disgusting display, even if they hadn’t tried to exterminate my people. It’s for work.” Asajj almost laughed. She found Kenobi’s choice of profession completely hilarious. Obi-Wan Kenobi, General in the Grand Army of the Republic, Jedi Master, and Holojournalist. If she was being honest, though, he wasn’t half bad at it. Better than most of the shavit the news holos spewed, anyway. 

“Why do you have to go? Surely the entire holo crew is frothing at the mouth to cover the fifth Empire Day celebration.”

“Oh, they are. But it’s not because of the parade. It’s because Palpatine’s second is going to be in attendance.”

“Tarkin?”

“No, not Tarkin. The apprentice.” _That_ piqued Asajj’s interest. She snapped her head around to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

“Well, then, Master Jedi, what do you propose?” Obi-Wan smiled in a way that made Asajj glad for the Galaxy’s sake that the man was such a _Jedi_. 

“I propose we do a little reconnaissance.”  
*

*

*

*  
Obi-Wan pushed his way through the gathering crowds around the parade route, waving his media pass like a riot shield in front of him. Ventress followed him, slipping through the spaces he created. The path to Coronet’s main square was choked with fervent Imperial citizens, craning for a glimpse at Palpatine’s Sith apprentice. Obi-Wan, too, was curious to see what Sidious had come up with as a substitute for the Chosen One. 

Distracted as he was, Obi-Wan jumped at the hand that clamped around his shoulder. Reaching for the knife in his boot, Obi-Wan whipped around to see an oddly familiar face, though it was one he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Ferus Olin?”

The former Jedi Padawan merely raised an eyebrow, and said,

“Come with me, both of you. I need to talk to you.”  
*

*

*

*  
Olin led them down several side streets, finally stopping in an empty alleyway and whirling on Obi-Wan, eyes flashing under the street lamps. 

“First of all, how?” he asked, eyes hard.

“I wasn’t anywhere near the clones when they turned.” He’d been at Dex’s, actually, doing a favor for Quinlan Vos.

“Alright.” Apparently, Olin accepted the answer because he turned his glare on Ventress. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to know anything about, Jedi.” she snapped. 

“Yeah, no.” Olin shot back. “You’re Force sensitive, and your signature’s dark. The only reason I’m not killing you now is that Master Kenobi seems to be tolerating your presence.”  
Ventress grinned at that, and Obi-Wan intervened before she spoke again.

“She’s an ally. We’re no friend of the Sith, Ferus.” He let the truth of his words bleed into the Force for a second before locking his shields back down. 

“Are there others?” asked the young man. Obi-Wan knew what he meant. He sighed.

“Yes, a few.” Ferus’ face crumpled in relief.

“I-I thought I was the only one.” He said, his voice breaking. Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder.

“You are not alone, Ferus. Now, did you just grab us to catch up?” He could sense the answer, and Ferus confirmed it, shaking his head.

“No. I’m here for the same reason you two were, I suspect. Listen, Master Kenobi, there’s a movement-“

“We know,” he cut in. “The Alliance. Senator Organa was the man who got us off of Coruscant after 66.”

Ferus looked like he wanted to ask what exactly “us” meant, but he let it go, opting instead for a scowl.

“Bastard never told me you were alive. He might have at least mentioned it.” Then, brightening, he continued, “Anyway, I’m here on Alliance business, to get a read on the Sith from a force sensitive perspective.”

“What do you think so far?” asked Ventress with a sneer. Olin glared at her, and answered rather primly,

“He hasn’t gotten within my range yet.” Ventress’ smirk only got wider.

“Pathetic.” She muttered. Then, over Ferus’ outraged cry, “His Dark Side power is rooted in anger. He has something to prove. I sense he’s trying to make Sidious believe he’s worthy of being his apprentice.” She snorted. “Good luck with that. Doesn’t matter if he’s the Dark Side version of the Chosen One, no one’s good enough for that creature.”  
Shuddering at the thought of a Dark Side Chosen One, Obi-Wan turned to Ventress. 

“You can sense him that clearly? All I’ve got is a vague sense of darkness.” She nodded sharply.

“What can I say, I’m talented.” 

Olin frowned, arms crossing over his chest. The evening shadows in the alley made the gold streaks in his dark hair stand out even more than usual. 

“That’s interesting. Can you tell how strong he is?” The Rattataki nodded again, scowling this time.

“He’s stronger than me, anyway. Maybe on par with Dooku, but nothing like Sidious himself.” 

Ferus’s eyebrows came down into a worried frown. The leather in his jacket creaked as he crossed his arms tighter, muscles clenching.

“Organa’s not gonna like that.” Obi-Wan nodded.

“Mm,” he agreed. “Dooku was extremely difficult to beat, and that was when the Order still existed, and was backed by an army.” Suddenly struck by curiosity, Obi-Wan looked  
over at the former Jedi. “How is the Alliance? I haven’t been able to stay in touch with anyone, unfortunately.”

Ferus shrugged, finally uncrossing his arms.

“It’s got potential. After Mon Mothma ran for it, she joined up, and a lot of Chandrila's nobility is funding us now. There are several Rebel cells in the Outer Rim, even a few in the Mid Rim. We don’t have much in the way of manpower, but the Empire tried to assassinate Jan Dodonna last month, and he approached us about joining afterwards. I guess he was some big shot in the Clone Wars?” Obi-Wan nodded, impressed.

“Yes, he was a war hero. He commanded the Republic forces at the Battle of Andaxes. Master Plo always spoke very highly of him.” 

Obi-Wan stamped down hard on the grief that welled up at the thought of the Kel Dor master. Even five years later, thinking of his friends hurt. Ferus looked at him, eyes full of sympathy, but Obi-Wan didn’t acknowledge him. He didn’t want to talk about it. He probably never would.

“Right,” said Ferus, looking awkward. “Thanks for the intel.” This was directed at Ventress, who, to Obi-Wan’s immense surprise, smiled and shrugged rather than sniping at him. Ferus offered her a smile in return, then clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder. “I’m pushing my luck more and more with every minute I’m here, or I’d stay and catch up. As it is, I’d better take off.” His gaze darted to the ground, then back to Obi-Wan, an odd combination of pride and contrition in his brown eyes. “Hey, Obi-Wan-I-I’m sorry. About your Padawan.” The former Jedi’s fists were clenched, his shoulders tight with tension. Recognizing the words for what they were, Obi-Wan nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. 

Without another word, Ferus brushed past Ventress and walked back toward the main square and the crowds of parade-goers.

Obi-Wan looked over at his Darksider ally. She shrugged.

“Well,” she said, “that was certainly more interesting than playing Dejarik and doing shots, wasn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I ship the hell out of Ventress/Obi-Wan. Blame TCW and the ridiculous levels of sexual tension between them. I am going to explain where Taryk is, btw.


	7. It's the Great Boonta Eve Classic, Leia Skywalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Anakin have a heart to heart and watch a podrace.

12 BBY, Mos Eisley, Tatooine

 

Kin Starseeker was jerked out of a deep meditative trance by a white-hot blast of _deathpainterror_ in the Force. He spat several Huttese curses between his teeth and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying to ground himself amid the echoes of thousands of dead Jedi.

The chrono on the floor next to him indicated it was almost dawn, which meant he’d been under for nearly 9 hours. It was no wonder he’d stumbled across one of the death echoes that now swirled around in the Force’s undercurrents. It was too late to go to sleep now, so he got up instead, grimacing as blood rushed back into his legs. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights in the little hut, merely let the Force guide him around the mechanical detritus that was pretty much always strewn across the floor. He only stepped on one piece of mechanical plating between the sofa and the caf machine, which was pretty good, for having the beginnings of a truly awful headache inhibiting his focus.

Neither Obi-Wan not Padmé had ever managed to make him into a neat person, despite their best efforts. 

He was watching the suns rise when a soft, clumsy prod at his consciousness told him that Leia was awake. The seven year old girl came in a few moments later, blinking sleepily. It was mostly his imagination, but he thought his headache lessened as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her dark head.

“How’s my little Princess this morning, huh?” Leia, who was most definitely not a morning person, didn’t answer, just snuffled into his shoulder. Kin couldn’t help but laugh at her sleepy grumping. “Does this mean you don’t want to go today?” he asked. The result was immediate. The little girl leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy!” she said, looking haughty. In fact, she looked so much like her mother that his heart twisted just a little. When he didn’t react, her eyes widened in alarm. “We’re still gonna go, right?” 

“Sure, Princess,” he said, tugging gently on the end of her braid, “long as you’re not too tired.” The haughty look returned in full force.

“I’m not!” 

Despite her grumbling, Leia was good the rest of the morning. Or, she was good by his standards. She still flicked pieces of cracker at him across the table, but that was practically a game between them now. (Padmé was going to be horrified in a few years) Kin watched her out of the corner of his eye as he washed up the breakfast dishes. He was constantly amazed at her, at even the smallest things she did. She could levitate things with the Force when she concentrated, face all screwed up, and he wondered if he’d ever looked so funny while learning. He probably had. She was headstrong and stubborn as well, set in her ways. She reminded him a lot of himself, actually. It made him in equal parts proud and worried. And she was only seven. So small and fragile that in his less rational moments he didn’t want to let her outside. He knew, from the holos in her house on Naboo, that Leia looked almost exactly like Padmé had as a girl, all brown curls, skinny limbs and round cheeks. 

She was his entire universe, here on Tatooine. Without her in his life, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still be sane, after seven years of living on his homeworld again. The memories were sometimes strong enough to shut him down as it was. Leia brought out an inner strength he’d been unable to find in his entire career as a Jedi. 

How ironic, that his personal attachments were what had finally made him a good Jedi, years after the Order’s destruction.

*

*

*

*  
The Boonta Eve Classic was still the premiere social event of the year on Tatooine. Kin had to maneuver around thousands of beings in order to park their old landspeeder. As he lifted Leia from her seat and set her on the hard packed sand, he spotted a Toydarian he recognized as Watto in the entrance to the Pod garage, yelling at a Dug Pod Jockey. Either betting on him or he owned the pod. Kin rolled his eyes. 

Leia was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She’d asked to come to the races nearly three months ago, after hearing her older friends talk about how exciting it was. Kin had been hesitant at first, but really, there would be nothing going on that Leia hadn’t seen before, up to and including fatal crashes. Tatooine wasn’t exactly conducive to sheltered childhoods. He did feel for his mother though, as his daughter watched a pair of Squibs lunge for each other, shrieking obscenities in Huttese. She understood them too, she’d grown up speaking more Huttese than Basic, though she knew both. Yes, Padmé was going to be beside herself.

Somehow, he doubted Luke knew what “Dopo me gusha, loca kark?” meant, let alone “E chu ta.” 

There was a good two hours before the race was supposed to start, so Kin decided to show Leia the pods. So long as you didn’t touch the engines, most racers were happy to show off their machines to anyone who was interested. Leia stared in open-mouthed adoration at a bright blue pod, attached to enormous, flanged engines. The racer, a small Selonian, looked over from where she was checking her plasma coupling.

“Like what you see, Pinky?” she asked. Leia grinned and nodded. Kin gave the pod engines a critical once over.

“Did you build this?” he asked. The Selonian ran one paw through the fur atop her head and laughed.

“Fierfek, no!” she exclaimed. “This is one of Sebulba’s pods. He rents ‘em out for races he’s not entered in.” She cocked her head at Kin’s grin. “What’s so funny?” Kin shrugged.

“Nothing. Your pod just looks like one of his I saw a few years ago.” 

“Oh yeah,” she shrugged. “No-one’s ever said that Dug was original. You’d think after the time he lost to a nine-year-old, he’d have maybe changed his design, but you’d be wrong. Still, it works, and that’s more than can be said for most of the junk out here.” Leia’s jaw dropped.

“A nine-year-old?!” she squeaked. 

“Yeah,” said the racer. “Folks around here are still talkin’ about it, and it happened more than ten years ago now. Right now, that idiot’s trying to win bets by sayin’ his pod’s got the same engines the kid’s did.” She gestured across the way, at another racer. Leia looked over.

“Are they?” She asked. 

Kin rather doubted it. He’d built the engines from nothing, after all; they’d been one of a kind. 

The Selonian snorted.

“As if.” She said scornfully. “No, Mareq’s just a lying sack of bantha poodoo.” Leia giggled. 

“Come on, Princess.” said Kin. “We need to go if we’re gonna find seats.” His daughter nodded, but turned to the Selonian racer before joining him.

“Good luck!” she said, with a wide smile. The Selonian’s ears wriggled, in the species’ own version of the expression.

“Thanks, kid.”

*

*

*

*  
The podrace was the most exciting thing Leia had ever seen, ever. The Selonian racer came in second, which Leia thought was pretty neat, because she’d been nice and nice beings hardly ever got ahead on Tatooine. Dad was grinning as they left, too, which was also great, because Dad was hardly ever happy. All in all, it was pretty much the best day of Leia’s life. 

“Dad?” she asked, as the landspeeder shot across the empty desert between the racetrack and Mos Eisley. He looked over, face tinted red through her goggles.

“Yeah, Princess?” 

“Can we practice with the Force when we get home?” It was one of her favorite things to do, but they didn’t do it very often. Dad never answered when she asked why, he just said it was dangerous. To her surprise and excitement, though, Dad nodded. 

“Sure.” he said, almost too soft to hear over the engines and the wind.

Leia spent the rest of the speeder ride bouncing up and down in her seat, too excited to sit still. By the time Dad cut the engines in front of their house, Leia was imagining herself lifting the whole city of Mos Eisley with the Force. She wondered if even Dad could do that. Probably. Dad could do anything.

“Wait here, okay?” he said after she climbed out of the speeder. “I need to go check for transmissions.” Leia, who was used to this, just nodded. Dad had super-important friends out in the galaxy somewhere that sometimes needed his help with different things. Leia didn’t really understand it, but she'd heard the words “Alliance” and “Emperor” a lot the one time she'd listened in.

Dad hated the Empire. She wasn’t sure why, and she’d never asked, because she didn’t think she wanted to know. But every year on Empire Day, which was only three days before her birthday, Dad was quiet and angry and sad, which was weird. Not the angry and sad part, because Dad was angry and sad a lot, but the quiet part was weird. Normally, Dad was loud and teasing and goofy, but on Empire Day, he was just quiet. Leia didn’t like it. She’d decided a long time ago that she hated the Empire too, for whatever they’d done to make her dad like he was. 

Just after he disappeared, the two boys across the street came running over. Leia sighed. D’nai was her best friend, but his brother Naren was mean. 

“Hey, Leia!” yelled D’nai, skidding to a stop in front of her. “Did you really go to Boonta Eve?” Even Naren’s scowling presence couldn’t keep the smile off of her face at the memory. 

“Yeah!” she said. “It was amazing, just like you said! I even met a racer! Dad said-“ Naren interrupted her.

“Kriff, would you stop bragging for one second?” he asked, glaring at her. “If I have to hear one more time how your dad is the greatest ever I’m gonna puke.” Leia glared at the older boy. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” she snapped, “D’nai asked me a question, and I answered it.” 

“Ooh, look at you, acting like you’re something special. What do you think you are, some kinda princess?” Leia crossed her arms, anger turning her mind red. “Well, I got news for you, kid, you can’t be a princess with some desert mech for a dad and a dead backwoods tramp for a-“ He didn’t get to finish, because Leia launched herself into his stomach, knocking him into the sand. After that, there was only red, until a big hand grabbed the back of her tunic and pulled her off of the older boy, and _disappointmentworryannoyed_ cut through the red rage in her head. 

“Apologize.” was all Dad said as he set her back on the sand. He didn’t let go of the back of her tunic, either. Leia furrowed her small brows and glared up at him, but there was no softness in his eyes, only hard blue durasteel, so she turned her glare on Naren.

“Sorry.” she grumbled, not meaning it. Naren said nothing, just scrambled to his feet and turned away. She couldn’t see very well through the grit in her eyes, but she thought he looked a little afraid.

Good. If he was afraid of her, maybe he’d stop being so mean all the kriffing time. Dad’s hand, the durasteel one, tightened around her tunic, enough to make her squirm. 

“So,” said Dad, after locking the door and washing the worst of the sand from Leia’s face. He dropped the rag onto the kitchen table, then knelt down so that their faces were at the same height. “Want to tell me what that was about?” His voice was soft, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t mad. She shrugged.

“He was being mean.” She looked right at him, not afraid. Well, maybe a little afraid, but she wasn’t going to show it. Dad nodded slowly, then raised an eyebrow, scar stretching.

“Mmmmhm. What did we say about anger, Young One?” Leia sighed. He only ever called her that when she’d really messed up, or when he was teaching her about the Force. 

“That it’s just an emotion and we can never, ever let it control us.” she muttered. “But Dad, he was saying awful things about Mom.” At that, Dad canted his head to the side. His face was still closed off and impassive, but a tiny thread of hope wormed its way into Leia’s mind. 

“What did he say?” he asked, voice even. 

“He said she was a backwoods tramp.” said Leia. All of a sudden, her anger gave way to something that was frighteningly like fear. Leia hated being afraid. In a small voice, she asked, “Was she?” Dad’s hard mask finally cracked open at that, and he looked stricken.

“No, of course not.” he whispered. Then, louder, “She was beautiful, and strong, and the kindest person I ever knew.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. “Leia, your mom was an angel.” 

Her eyes were stinging from the sand, and she could tell from the look on his face that she was still in trouble, but she felt better all the same. 

“You always say that.” she muttered,trying not to grin. Dad just shrugged. 

"Come one, Young One,” he said, standing up. “I think today’s a good day to learn a little control over your emotions, hm?” 

What Leia wanted to do was practice moving things and mind tricks, but she knew better than to push her luck, so she just nodded.

“Right,” said Dad, crossing to the two sand-colored mats in the corner. Leia grabbed the smaller one and sat down on it, crossing her legs. “Let’s start by calming down, okay? Watch me.” 

Leia nodded, and watched. Dad took a deep breath, and the Force shifted around her. Suddenly she could feel worry coming through their bond, clammy against her own mind. Underneath it  
was a layer of icy fear. As she watched, though, they bled away, trailing off into the currents of energy around them. As the last bits disappeared, Dad opened his eyes. 

“Now you try,” he said, “Feel your anger. Acknowledge it and accept it, then let it go. Send it off into the Force.”

Leia closed her eyes. She summoned Naren’s face and his words, and the anger came with them, red and hot in her mind. She pushed at it, sending it away. Some of it went, and the rest was chased out by a wash of cool calm from Dad. She opened her eyes. 

“Not bad, Young One.” he said, and reached across the space to ruffle her hair. Out of habit, she smacked at his hand and smoothed it back down, grinning. Dad smiled too, and said, “I want you to practice this week, alright? When you get annoyed, or angry or afraid, practice releasing it.” Leia nodded. Through their bond, she felt Dad rearrange his shields, blocking most of his feelings and all of his thoughts. Leia couldn’t shield yet, Dad said she was too young to learn. As they rolled the mats back up, Leia remembered something from the lesson.

“When you were showing me how to release my feelings.” she said, looking up at him. “Why were you afraid?” Dad’s shoulders went stiff, and it was a long time before he answered. 

“Do you know why it’s important for you to keep a hold on your feelings?” he asked. Leia didn’t. Over the years, she’d learned that Dad hardly ever explained things like that. She shook her head. Dad nodded. “I didn’t think so.” he said, and there was something like sadness under his voice. “You and I, we’re different from other beings. You know that, right?” Leia nodded. She’d wondered, when she was little, why Granny Mirilba never knew what she wanted like Dad did, without her even having to say so. 

“Because of the Force.” she said. Dad nodded again.

“We are Force-sensitive, but the Force is also sensitive to us. Does that make sense?” Seeing her nod, he continued. “That means that when we get angry or scared, the Force reacts to that. When you use the Force out of anger, when you let your emotions control you, you can end up hurting people, more than a non-Force sensitive would.” Suddenly, Leia could hear screams around her, and the faint, metallic scent of blood hung in the air for just a moment before it disappeared. “It’s called the Dark Side, when a person lets their anger or fear control their Force-use. People who fall to the Dark Side lose who they are, they’d turn on their own best friend.”

“They turn evil?” asked Leia, horrified.

“Yes, that's one way to put it.” said Dad, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee, “They give up everything for power and become a shell of their former selves.” This time, she could see, very clearly, a black cloaked creature with burning yellow eyes and black tattoos zigzagging across his face. He carried a blood red blade, and his presence was _icecolddark_ and wrong, lightyears away from Dad’s _brightsunfirewarm_ presence beside her. It made her feel sick to her stomach. 

Dad took a deep, shuddering breath as the vision faded, then continued,

“I was afraid, little Princess, because you reminded me of myself today, when you hit Naren. You had a good reason to be angry, but you let it get the better of you.” Leia looked down at the floor, shame turning her cheeks red and hot. 

“I’m sorry, _Apa_. she murmured. Dad lifted her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his. 

I’m proud of you, and I love you more than anything in the Galaxy, _shisa_.” He pulled her close, and she tucked her head into his chest, breathing in his engine-oil, dust, and tea-spice scent. 

“But you’re also a Force-user, and you have to learn to release your anger and your fear, or they will hurt you, and other beings, too.”

The truth of his words rang through the Force, and she knew he spoke from experience.

Two days later, when Imperial stormtroopers ran a standard check for “Seditionist and Rebel Propaganda,” Leia closed her eyes and let her anger fade away into the Force, even after one trooper muttered something about “lizard-eating abos” then casually knocked Dad’s spices onto the floor, spilling dried tufi and fierfa flowers everywhere.

She felt nothing more than a little annoyance from Dad, but his shields were even tighter than normal, and his durasteel fingers were twitching.

She wondered, for the first time, how he knew so much about anger and fear.

Much like the reason he hated the Empire, she didn't think she wanted to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been awhile! I had finals and then I was at home with my family for a week. But I'm back now, so I'm going to post two chapters tonight! Leave a comment, your reviews and feedback give me life.
> 
> "Dopo me gusha, loca kark?" means "Do you feel lucky, crazy fuck?" in Huttese 
> 
> "Apa" means Dad and "Shisa" means my girl, in a language I made up because I have too many feelings about Shmi and Tatooinian culture. The language is a dialect of Huttese spoken primarily by slaves, which Anakin learned from Shmi and taught to Leia. This chapter is inspired by me reading lots of Tatooine headcanons because I loooooove them.


	8. Lord Malefus is a Horrible Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Empire hunts for the "rebel scum" on Mandalore.

14 BBY, Coruscant, the Top Floor of Imperial Center

 

Imperial Special Operations Command Agent Niro Arana’s hands were steady as he pressed play on the holorecording. This was a remarkable feat, as far as Niro was concerned, considering what was playing and who he was playing it for.

The holo was good quality, likely from a helmet cam, and it showed the events in devastating clarity. Even Moff Vizer’s high-pitched shriek of terror had been captured. As the smoke cleared, the cam shifted, smoothly panning around Keldabe City Center, highlighting first the panicked chaos on the stage as Imperial officials dove for cover and stormtroopers searched for the sniper, then the datascreens behind the stage, all of which had been sliced into and coaxed into displaying either the sigil of the Grand Army of the Republic or, more importantly, the winged blade of the Jedi Order. It was all very artistic, actually, and Arana would have been impressed at the rebels’ vision, had he not been watching Lord Malefus’ reaction. 

This would be the only time in the agent’s life that he was grateful for the aesthetic of the Imperial Throne Room. At least he couldn’t see the Emperor’s face, other than a spot of white in the oppressive darkness.

“I assume I am correct in the assumption that this has been authenticated.” said the cloaked figure on the throne, voice soft and cracked. Arana forced his eyes away from the offending holo, which had frozen on the Jedi’s sigil. A female voice spoke over the image, full of fiery rhetoric about the evils of the Empire. 

“Yes, M’lord,” said Arana, snapping to attention. “It looped for nearly six hours following the attack before technicians were able to take it down.” He swallowed hard. The debacle hadn’t been his, or anyone’s fault, but someone was going to pay for it. Of that, Arana was certain. 

“This is a problem, Agent Arana.” said the Emperor. “The Empire cannot have insurgents and terrorists threatening the security of its systems.” He turned his head towards the room’s other occupant. “Lord Malefus, your next assignment is this: Track down these terrorists and bring them to me. I sense there is more to these Mandalorian insurgents than it seems.” Malefus dropped to one knee and bowed his head in apparent acknowledgement.

“Agent Arana-“ continued the Emperor, ignoring the kneeling man. Arana swallowed again, and drew himself up yet again, bracing for whatever would come out of the man’s (if he even was a man, Arana wasn’t sure) mouth next. “-you will assist Lord Malefus in his mission. Your position with the ISOC will be most advantageous, I am certain.” 

To say that Arana was surprised would have been a massive understatement. Rather, it was all the young agent could do to keep his jaw in place. 

“Y-yes, M’lord.” With a waved hand, they were dismissed. Malefus rose and stalked past Arana, who pivoted on one foot and followed, immensely relieved to be leaving the throne room. The turbo lift was lit with bright white lumas, and Arana had to squint until his eyes adjusted. His new superior seemed content to simply stand in silence, so Arana did as well, still wondering how he’d managed to convert a major embarrassment for the Empire into anything other than a dishonorable discharge. 

He hadn’t found an answer by the time that Malefus swept to a halt at his office door. 

“Well then,” he said. His voice was very soft, with a slight Corellian accent. “It seems we’re going to be working together.” Arana nodded, trying furiously to swallow past the nervous lump in his throat. For kark’s sake, the man practically radiated power. It wasn’t even close to fair. Malefus unlocked the office door, and gestured for Arana to enter. He did so, hyperaware of the being behind him. Malefus walked past him and dropped into the black synthleather desk chair. 

“Where do you propose we start, Agent?” he asked, placing his lightsaber on the desk’s smooth black surface.

“Ah-“ Arana coughed, trying to clear his throat. “I think we should start with the voice at the end of the holorecording, M’lord. It’s likely just a stock voice manipulated to say what they wanted, but there’s always a chance it’s not.” Malefus looked him up and down, golden eyes appraising. Eventually, he smiled. It did nothing to ease Arana’s nerves. 

“Yes, I believe that’s a good strategy, Agent-Arana, was it?” Arana nodded. The other man pulled the holo up again, fast forwarding until the woman began speaking. 

“Identify vocal patterns and crosscheck with Imperial databases. Keyword Mandalore.” The computer interface hummed as it worked, then spit back a picture and a name: Aayla Hardeen. 

Arana leaned forward.

“I know her!” he exclaimed. Malefus’ head snapped up, fixing him with a sharp stare.

“Do elaborate.” he said.

“I recognize her from the old Clone Wars holoreels. She’s a Jedi-or at least an apprentice.”

Another smile curled Malefus’ lips. 

“This job just became worth my time, Agent. I thank you. Might you remember which holoreels you remember her from?”

“Y-yes, I know she was in the coverage of the second Battle of Geonosis.” Malefus' grin stretched even wider, and he typed a few commands into his datapad. A few moments later, the holoreels from Geonosis began playing. They were largely staged, Arana knew, but the reporters had also interviewed the Jedi generals present, in this case, Luminara Unduli and Anakin Skywalker. At the sight of Skywalker, Malefus’ good humor seemed to evaporate. He muted the recording, glaring at the long-dead Jedi Knights. Arana, though, had found what he’d been looking for. 

“There,” he said, stabbing a finger into the recording, towards the young Togruta girl in the background. Malefus paused the holo, then zoomed in on her face. “That’s her.”

“A Padawan.” murmured Malefus, half to himself. “But whose?” 

“I believe she was Skywalker’s Padawan, M’lord.” said Arana. He’d been a teenager during the Clone Wars, and before their betrayal, he’d seen the Jedi as heroes. He remembered the girl, though not her real name (it wasn’t Aayla Hardeen, of that he was certain) from the holos, always standing just behind Skywalker. The reporters had never talked to her, to teenaged Arana’s disappointment. He’d felt a strange sort of connection to the Togruta girl, so close to his own age.

“So,” said Malefus, sitting back in his chair. “It would seem that a former Jedi Padawan is part of an insurgent cell on Mandalore.” 

“Indeed, M’lord. What shall we do next?” Malefus bared his teeth again, but no sane being would have called it a smile.

“Next, Agent Arana, you’ll be traveling to Mandalore. It seems rude to keep this Jedi and her former master separated, don’t you think?”

*

*

*

*  
10 BBY, Mandalore, Capital City of Mandalore

Niro Arana, now a commander in His Imperial Majesty’s Intelligence Forces, was entirely tired of being laughed at today, thank you very much. Unfortunately, the only being in the Galaxy who laughed at him on a regular basis was his direct superior, Lord Malefus, so there wasn’t much he could do about it, other than drink or write hate-poetry, neither of which he was desperate enough to do just yet. 

Sighing, the Intelligence officer shut his comm off and sat back in his chair. Reluctantly, he turned his mind away from how much he’d like to punch the ever-present smirk off his boss’ face, and back to the problem at hand. 

There were seven of them, at least according to his spy network. Seven sentients, four of whom should be long-dead, were currently causing at least 90% of Arana’s problems. They were just so damn effective, and the entire West End of Keldabe seemed content to hide their locations from Imperial forces. No amount of raiding or threatening had managed to flush these insurgents (because Malefus wouldn’t let him call them rebels, oh no) out of hiding. And Arana had led plenty of raids and done a lot of threatening over the past three years. To make matters worse, some of the graffiti they’d scrawled across public buildings had the immature feel of teenagers. Arana, with all his Academy training, was being thoroughly outsmarted by _children_. It was mortifying. And worst of all, sometimes, Arana even admired them. It was hard to hate beings who hadn’t hurt a civilian in at least three years of open rebellion against the Empire. During his assignment on Mandalore, Arana had read all that graffiti and listened to the Padawan’s speech from Empire Day more times than he’d like to admit.

And, well, he’d never met a Jedi, but somehow, he doubted they’d carried an oppressive aura of fear with them wherever they went, traitors or not.

His comm went off then, pulling his mind away from his disturbing thoughts. 

“What is it?” he snapped, harsher than he’d meant. 

“Ah-apologies, Sir. The tax patrol just called for reinforcements. They’ve been hit by the insurgents.” 

“Good. Prep my speeder and get me some men.”

Maybe this time he’d actually manage to catch the bastards. He was extremely curious as to what they might have to say.

*

*

*

*  
2 Minutes Earlier, Mandalore, Capital City of Keldabe

As she lay flat against the low rooftop, waiting for the expected patrol, Ko-Iri couldn’t help but be a little nervous. Despite more than three years of experience in Ruining the Empire’s Day, she still felt the weight of what they’d do to her if they ever caught her. Not much was known about Imperial interrogations, but the little there was seemed to indicate that it was not pleasant.

And it would be doubly worse for her, a creche-raised Jedi Youngling. She wondered, sometimes, whether it might have been a better option to stay on Dagobah with Master Yoda, as he’d offered. She loved her friends, of course, they were like brothers, and Ahsoka was the coolest being in the Galaxy, as far as Ko-Iri was concerned, but all the same, at her core, she was 16 and the Empire was terrifying.

“Domino 7, are you in position?” Rex’s voice crackled in her ear.

“Yes, Domino 2, we are good to go up top.” she responded, pushing her apprehension into the Force, like Ahsoka had taught her. This was a mission, her fears had no place on it.

Down on the street, the Imperial patrol was in view, a standard squad in formation around two Imperial tax collectors.

“Domino 7 to Domino Squad, it’s a standard patrol. I see six bucket heads and an officer.” she said.

“Roger that, Domino 7. Standby for signal to fire.” That was Ahsoka. Ko-Iri couldn’t see her Master, but she knew roughly where she was, and trained her eyes on the next street, waiting.

She didn’t have to wait long. Barely a minute later, there was an almighty roar and a blast of light from the street as two thermal detonators went off. The Stormtroopers scattered, sprinting towards the blast site, as Ahsoka and Zatt appeared in the square. Ko-Iri could hear the Nautolan’s shout from her perch.

“Down with Palpatine! Restore the Republic!” 

That was her cue. Taking careful aim, Ko-Iri shot. The bolt burned through the officer’s chest and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. As the troopers took off after Ahsoka and Zatt, who’d shot down the nearest side street, Rex and Jesse stepped out from a crowd of cowering civilians, and crept up behind the tax men, who were staring in horror at the dead officer. 

Ko-Iri leapt down from the roof, landing in a crouch on the permacrete. She jogged up to the tax collectors as Rex and Jesse pressed blasters to their backs.

Ko-Iri did her best to glare menacingly around at the onlookers, carefully avoiding the officer's body.

“Right, then,” said Jesse. “We’ll be taking your tax revenues off your hands, if you please.” 

“Put ‘em on the ground, slowly.” added Rex. The tax collectors exchanged glances, but did as their captors ordered, dropping the cases they carried. 

“You terrorist scum won’t get away with this.” snapped the taller man. “We’ve already called for reinforcements. Your reign of terror in this city is over.” Rex snorted.

“Our reign of terror? Notice how none of these people are trying to help you. I don’t think we’re the ones they want gone.” Just then, Ko-Iri heard the sound of boots on the ground.

“We need to go. Now.” she hissed. 

“Kreth.” muttered Jesse. “They’re getting faster.” As if to make his point, the reinforcements burst into the square from all sides, surrounding the three rebels.

“You are under arrest by order of the Emperor. Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

Beside her, Rex swore.

“Any ideas, Kid?” asked Jesse out of the corner of his mouth. Ko-Iri took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Yeah.” she said, and thrust her hands out, flinging the troopers backwards. Rex and Jesse took the opportunity and ran, Ko-Iri bringing up the rear, dodging stun bolts as she sprinted for better cover.

“They must have known we’d hit that patrol.” said Jesse as they ducked into an alley. “No way Imps are just that fast.” 

“Yeah. I’d say you’re right.” Rex punched their comm frequency.

“Domino 1, did you get away clean?”

Only static answered him.

“E chu ta!” hissed the clone Captain. “We have to go to ground.” 

Ko-Iri skidded to a stop in front of Keldabe’s open air market, which, at this hour, was packed with beings. She stripped off her mask and dropped it and the sniper rifle into a dumpster. It was useless now anyway, only having been good for one shot. Beside her, Rex did the same. 

“Come on.” she said, turning to the market. “We can blend in.” She ducked between two Rodians, slipping into the throngs of Mando’a and other sentients. Rex and Jesse followed her through the crowds, stopping every now and then to pretend to examine goods for sale. As Ko-Iri picked up a meiloorun and turned it over in her hands, three Stormtroopers entered the market square. 

“Keep it cool.” muttered Rex, placing his hand on her shoulder. Mentally cursing herself, Ko-Iri forced the tension from her muscles, trying her best to look like a normal teenager who hadn’t just murdered an Imperial officer.

They almost made it. The three Stormtroopers were turning to leave the square when Rex’s comm beeped and Kix’s voice crackled over the channel.

“Domino 2, what is your location?” Rex clapped his palm over the wrist comm, muffling it, but it was too late. The troopers turned around. Ko-Iri glanced around, dismayed. There was no room to maneuver. 

They were trapped.

“Take her and go!” snapped Rex, shoving Ko-Iri at the other clone. Jesse’s fist clenched for a split second, but he grabbed her wrist and took off, shoving housewives aside as he ran. Shots rang out behind them. 

“We have to get off the streets!” she hissed, searching for somewhere, anywhere to hide. Her gaze caught on a sewer cover.

“There!” 

“You’re kidding.” said Jesse, eyeing the cover.

“Do you have a better idea? They’ll be after us any second now!” Jesse muttered something that sounded like “Krething Jedi and their damn fool ideas”, but he followed her to the sewer cover. Reaching out to the Force, Ko-Iri lifted the heavy durasteel plate and shifted it to the side. Jesse climbed down onto the ladder, and she followed, pulling the cover back into place before sliding down the rungs. She hit the filthy water at the bottom with a splash.

“Urgh!” gasped Jesse, pressing his hand to his nose.

“Hey, at least you’ve got a scarf!” she muttered, but she couldn’t argue with the sentiment.

Immediate crisis averted, Ko-Iri’s mind started to stray to dangerous places.

“Jesse?” she asked, voice echoing in the cavernous space. He looked down at her, so she continued.

“Did Master Tano get captured?” The man sighed.

“I don’t know, Kid. I wish I did, believe me.” 

Ko-Iri said nothing, but her fists clenched at her sides, and the Jedi Temple, hallways choked with smoke and death appeared unbidden in her mind. More than anything, she wished Master Tano and Zatt and Mashan were down here with her.

*

*

*

*  
Ahsoka woke up in a bare, gray room, furnished with a durasteel table and matching chair. She reached instinctively for the Force, trying to clear the fuzziness from her mind, and immediately regretted it as a low-level electric pulse shot up her arms. 

Kriff, she hated Force-binders. For a moment longer, she was confused, wondering how she’d gotten here when just a minute ago, she’d been home, at Five’s. It came back in a rush of images, the square, the tax patrol-a decoy, she’d realized too late-the platoon of troopers in the next street. Then the stun bolts, and-

_No._

The boys had been taken too, they had to have been. Talented as they were, they couldn’t take out an entire platoon. A horrible feeling of foreboding washed over Ahsoka Tano as the door opened, and an officer walked in, his uniform marking him as a Commander.

“Good evening, Miss-Tano, isn’t it?” Ahsoka shrugged. She’d already failed enough today, she wasn’t about to give the Empire anything. The Commander shook his head, brows sinking a fraction of an inch. “First off, Miss Tano, this will go much easier for the both of us if you cooperate. After all, I shouldn’t like to hurt your young companions, but rest assured, I will. Now, once again, your name is Ahsoka Tano, yes?”

This time, Ahsoka nodded. The officer smiled, and she felt a strong urge to smash his head into the table.

“Thank you. My name is Commander Niro Arana. I must say, Miss Tano, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Ahsoka kept still. Arana snorted. “This act of yours is ridiculous. I already know of your past. You are a Jedi Padawan, formerly apprenticed to Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. You deserted the Jedi Order approximately 11 months before the end of the Clone Wars. Am I correct?”

“Yes.” she said, fists clenching under the table. How did he-no. It didn’t matter how he knew, only that he did. 

“Right, then. Might I ask, Padawan Tano, why you’ve felt the need to conduct a terrorist campaign here in Keldabe?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” she said, widening her eyes. “I’m just a thief. That tax patrol was too hard to pass up.” she gave him a sweet smile.

“Mm.” said Arana. “I’m sure. You know, that stunt your team pulled three years ago was very impressive. Indeed, had I not been in the presence of a superior when viewing the footage, I might have laughed. I assume your intent was to embarrass the Mandalorian regime, yes?”

“I remember that.” she said. “It was some kind of explosion at the parade, wasn’t it? I’d heard Governor Vizer lost his title over it.” She shrugged. “Never liked him much.”

“You are an impressive liar, Padawan Tano.” he said, before leaning across the table.

“I wonder, will your young companions prove to be as good at it?” Ahsoka leaned forward too, so that their faces were a fraction of an inch apart. 

“You’d better hope I don’t get out of here, Commander.” she murmured, keeping her voice quiet and even. “I don’t like it when people threaten my friends, and you’ve done it twice now.” 

Arana smiled.

You must forgive me, Padawan Tano.” he said. “But I do have superiors to answer to.”

“I don’t give a flying kreth about your superiors.” snapped Ahsoka, incensed. “That’s a nerf shit excuse, anyway, unless you’ve been programmed from birth to-“ she broke off, her anger giving way to fear. Stupid, that had been _stupid_. Arana, unfortunately, had caught her slip. His brows came down in confusion.

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing.” she said, determined not to make another mistake.

“No, that wasn’t nothing.” he muttered, to himself, it seemed. 

And then, to Ahsoka’s shock, the Imperial officer stood, crossed to the corner of the room, reached up, and turned the droidcam off.

*

*

*

*  
“What the kark are you doing?”

Asking himself a similar question, Arana turned back to the Togruta woman. Her white brow markings were raised, and she’d started tapping one fingernail on the table’s surface. Arana reclaimed his seat.

“Now then, you have no fear of incriminating any of your allies.” he said, spreading his arms in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “I'm going to ask you one more time. Why are you and your group rebelling against Imperial rule on Mandalore?”

“I told you, Imp, I don't know anything about any rebels. End of story.” her eyes were hard, face closed off. 

“And I told you, I don’t believe you.” he snapped, tired of her attitude. “We have very little time before there are troops in here wondering why I’ve shut the cam off. I’ve taken a very big risk here. I could lose my position. The least you could do is tell the truth.” At this, her jaw dropped and her eyes flashed with blue fury.

“Oh? The least I could do, huh? I owe you nothing, Imperial.” She said the word like it was the worst insult she could think of. “You don’t know anything about truth.”

“Then tell me.” he said simply. Her eyes widened, then immediately narrowed again.

“You want to know so bad? Fine. Your precious Emperor exterminated my friends, my _people_ like karking womp rats and he enslaved a whole race to do it.” Her voice, when she began to speak, was controlled and quiet, but as she continued, it roughened into a snarl worthy of her predatory species. Behind the anger though, there was pain, and a burning conviction that always, in Arana’s experience, meant she believed what she was saying. What that meant, Arana didn’t really want to think about, but he did so all the same.

“The official Imperial stance is that your people were traitors, deserving of death.” he said carefully.

“And all the clones who ate their own blasters after the Emperor declared himself?” she asked. “That sound like soldiers executing traitors, or men betraying people who trusted them?”

She was right. Arana had always been interested in the Clone Wars, and he’d read all he could find (there wasn’t much) on the clones after the war’s end. Several, enough to be significant, had committed suicide or been executed for disobeying orders in the months following the Empire’s rise, leading to the eventual removal of clones from the Imperial Navy. A sliver of ice seemed to run down his spine.

Unfortunately, before he could do more than look at her, meet her challenging gaze, the door hissed open, and his second in command entered. He stepped in close and spoke in Arana’s ear.

“Apologies, Commander, but I thought you should be notified. Lord Malefus, upon being informed of the insurgents’ capture, ordered that the Zabrak be transferred to Coruscant immediately. They’ve just taken off.”

“Without my approval?” hissed Arana, outraged. This was his operation, dammit!

“It was not a request, Commander.” said the Lieutenant. “Lord Malefus said the order had come from the highest command.” Arana sighed.

“Very well.” He turned back to the Jedi. “Until next time, then, Miss Tano.” Her teeth ground together with an audible click. 

"Believe what you want, Commander Arana." she said. "But I don't think you know which side you chose."

Arana turned and walked from the interrogation room without a backward glance. 

His thoughts, though, were far less controlled. 

Behind him, Ahsoka Tano allowed herself a small smile at the Imp's distress before she turned her thoughts to the two boys she'd failed today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for the evening! This took me forever to write, let me tell you. It was also really frustrating, and if you follow me on tumblr, you probably saw me bitching about it. But! It is now done, and I'm happy with it! I actually like writing Arana, he's just so done with everything all the time.


	9. It All Comes Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taryk sees an old friend.

12 BBY, Carida, the Imperial Academy of Carida

No being in the Galaxy would disagree: the Imperial Academy was the premier flight school in the Empire. Every year, it graduated a class of elite pilots, who went on to become luxury liner captains, merchant fleet commanders, and, of course, officers in the Imperial Navy. 

This year, as per usual, both the Valedictorian and the Salutatorian were pilots, both assigned to the 42nd Imperial Fighter Wing, a promising start to both of their careers. On the podium, the Valedictorian, a Nubian by the name of Myx Oran, nudged his roommate and best friend, who just so happened to be the Salutatorian.

“Taryk,” he hissed at the Corellian. “You think we’ll get to fly a mission soon?” The dark haired graduate trod heavily on his foot.

“Shh! If you keep talking, we’ll never see combat, they’ll discharge you before you leave the Academy.”

“Congratulations, Graduates!” called the Academy’s Headmaster, one Admiral Aloysius Pike. “As of today, you are all Lieutenants in the Galaxy’s best military. You are the Pride of the Empire!” 

Cheers erupted from the various family members in the crowd. The Salutatorian barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes.

Taryk knew better than to search for loved ones, as the others were doing. He wouldn’t find them in the crowd. Instead, the 20-year-old put a grin on his face and pulled the cap from his head, sending it soaring towards the ceiling with the thousand others.

Back in the dorm, just after Myx left to get dinner with his mother, Taryk flipped his comm to the encrypted frequency.

“Congratulations, Leiutenant.” crackled his handler’s voice. Taryk could practically hear the Bothan’s smirk.

“Ha ha.” he deadpanned. “I ship out for the 42nd at 0600 tomorrow.”

“Seriously, congrats on that. That’s an elite corps. You’ll be well placed for your mission.”

“It was no sweat. These non Force-sensitives never stood a chance.”

“Right,” said the Jedi. “I’d better go. I’m expecting a call from Dodonna. May the Force be with you, Rovan.” 

“And with you, Boss.” Taryk shut the comm off and relaxed against the gray wall of his dorm room. He’d done it. He’d gotten through two years of Academy training without attracting any dangerous attention. 

Now, of course, the hard part began. When he’d been a Youngling at the Temple, imagining his first real mission as a Jedi Knight, he hadn’t pictured going undercover in the Navy that had helped to destroy the Jedi Order and reported directly to a Sith Lord. 

All the same, it was his mission, and he was determined to aid the Rebellion in any way he could.

*

*

*

*  
10 BBY. Mandalorian Orbit

Taryk jerked his TIE to the side, wondering for the millionth time why the strongest military force in the Galaxy insisted on using such shit equipment. The fighter groaned in protest, but it obeyed, and Taryk put it into a controlled spin to avoid the next barrage of sim bolts. Coming out of it, he sent the ship rocketing toward the ‘enemy,’ which, today, was the Star Destroyer _Relentless_. He strafed the Destroyer’s outer hull with his own sim bolts, keeping well out of his squadron’s way. It chafed at him that the Empire tended not to use group tactics, but then again, the Navy wasn’t big on teamwork. In fact, it was pretty much only big on scaring the shit out of spacers and squashing rebellions with extreme force.

As he brought his fighter around for another pass, his comm burst into static, the signal for the end of the exercise. Taryk sighed. Flying maneuvers was infinitely more fun than running escorts for luxury liners through the blockade, which was his squad’s primary job out here. Shaking his head at himself, he guided his ship into position at the head of 12th Squadron. 

“You heard Motherbird, Blade Squadron.” he said over the comm. “Let’s head home.” Thinking of a Star Destroyer as home was still strange, even after two years of doing it.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” This reply was echoed by the rest of the squad, and they followed in formation to their assigned hangar. Immediately upon setting the TIE down, Taryk could tell something had changed. They’d been on assignment in the Mandalore system for nearly a month now, as, to Taryk’s amusement, Keldabe had a fair amount of anti-Imperial activity. Sometimes, he wondered if he knew any of the Rebels. 

Probably not, but it was fun to imagine seeing his friends again.

In the past month, the 3rd Division of 5th Fleet had kept itself busy with blasting pirates out of the sky and running maneuvers, but now, troop activity suggested an imminent hyperspace jump, which was funny, because Taryk could have sworn that they’d been assigned to Mandalore for at least six weeks. Raising an eyebrow, the young Lieutenant left his shuttle in the mechanics’ capable hands and headed over to the nearest Commander.

“New orders, Sir?” he asked, after saluting. 

“Yes, Lieutenant. We’ve been assigned to escort a prisoner back to Coruscant for trial. Have your squad prepare for a hyperspace jump in half an hour.” Trepidation began to gather, dark strings in the corners of his thoughts.

“Understood, Commander.” he said, snapping another salute. His mind was churning as he relayed the orders to his men. They seemed unconcerned, but then, Imps weren’t exactly famed for their inquisitive natures.

Around them, the ship was on high alert, Stormtroopers patrolling the hallways in full squads rather than standard two man teams. Never a good sign, particularly if you were a Rebel spy who was trying to gather intel. 

He dropped back from his squad near the ship’s Detention Block. Trying desperately to look like he belonged, Taryk walked down the hallway, and turned the corner into the Block itself just in time to see the prisoner shuffle into Booking, surrounded by troopers.

Taryk’s blood ran ice cold. As it turned out, he did know at least one of the Mandalorian Rebels, though he hadn’t seen him in nearly 8 years. Across the room, Mashan Armess looked up, radiating confusion in the Force. His amber eyes flicked back and forth, searching for Taryk’s signature. On instinct, Taryk threw his mental shields up, blocking the Zabrak out, and Mashan cast his eyes back to the ground, the hope fading from his features.

Taryk’s first thoughts were of rescue, but it was next to impossible. The ship was crawling with Stormtroopers, and, being a pilot, he wasn’t even armed. There was simply no way to get Mashan out before the ship jumped to hyperspace, and once it did, they’d be on Coruscant in six hours, what with Mandalore’s proximity to the hyperspace lanes. 

Though it twisted his heart to leave his fellow Jedi to such a fate, there was only one thing Taryk could do now, and that was damage control.

He had to get a message off to Bail Organa before the ship jumped. If Mashan reached the Emperor before he could-well, the lives of three Jedi, two children, and two senators, including Organa himself, would be in serious trouble. With this panic-inducing thought, Taryk turned around and hightailed it back to his quarters, walking as quickly as he could while avoiding suspicion. He made it with five minutes to spare. As the door hissed shut behind him, the young Lieutenant abandoned all pretense of nonchalance, flinging himself under his bunk and prying his commlink loose from its spot against the cold gray durasteel. It was a simple hookup, not even audio, only text messages. He punched it in, one line, oddly short for such a damning thing. He could feel the Force swirling in heavy eddies around him as he hit send. The message shot off to both his handler with the Alliance and Bail Organa. It was all he could do.

As the ship jumped to hyperspace, bound for Coruscant and the Emperor, Taryk could only hope it would be enough. 

*

*

*

*  
Approximately 8 hours later, Corellia, Capital City of Coronet

Obi-Wan was awakened by a surge of warning from the Force. He shot out of bed, already reaching for his blasters. Beside him, Asajj shifted and muttered, curling up against the chill night. He shook her bare shoulder.

“Something’s coming.” he said as she groaned sleepily. The effect was immediate. Her ice-blue eyes snapped open and she sprung upright, pulling her sabers across the room with the Force. Her aura of general ferocity was in no way diminished by the fact that she was entirely nude. 

“I felt a disturbance in the Force. We need to leave.” said Obi-Wan, crossing his little apartment to a square section of wall bordered by re-soldered durasteel. “Might I borrow one of your sabers for a moment?” She obliged, tossing him one curved hilt. The red blade ignited with a snap-hiss, and he wasted no time in cutting the wall open, calling the two lightsabers hidden inside to his pants. He deactivated Vantress’ saber and tossed it back to her. She caught it and clipped it back to her belt, now dressed in one of his shirts and her own leggings and boots. 

Catching his raised eyebrow, she shrugged. 

“What? Yours was the first one I saw. Now get a move on, Kenobi, unless you want to wait around and find out what wants to kill you?” 

“It’s tempting, but I think I’ll stick with you, my dear.” She snorted. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, grabbed a shirt and his own boots. He’d just finished strapping the boots on when the Force went whirling around him again, telling him to move. 

“If you don’t get your pretty Ginger ass up right now, I swear by all the gods I will leave you here.” hissed his companion. 

“Do calm yourself, Ventress. I’m coming.” Downstairs, he heard the cantina’s door crash open. Ventress swore violently and yanked the window open before stepping out and dropping to the dingy street below.

Obi-Wan cast one last look around the room that had been his home for the past 8 years. Lightsabers, blasters, credits-he had everything he needed. 

There were boots on the stairs. He could sense them now, an entire battalion of Stormtroopers. Flattering, really, if a tad inconvenient.

They blew his front door open and boiled through, sweeping the tiny apartment. Obi-Wan dove for the window. Blaster bolts streaked around him and chased him into the Corellian night.

*

*

*

*  
The same day, Alderaan, Capital City of Aldera

Aldera Palace was bathed in afternoon sunshine. Queen Breha Organa turned to the window of her conference chamber, face lit with soft orange light under Alderaan’s sun. 

“All of it?” she asked. The woman standing behind her inclined her head, brown braids swinging.

“Yes, Your Majesty. The files have all been destroyed, and the Viceroy’s Corvette is gone from our scanners.”

“Thank you, Amara." The Queen looked back over her shoulder, sighing. “I do not know what will come next for the people of Alderaan.”

“Your people stand with you, my Queen.” said the young woman. “We are proud of our Viceroy and his defiance.”

“As am I, and yet, we cannot withstand the might of the Imperial Navy. We must swallow our pride and bide our time for now. Go. If you are not here when the Empire arrives, they will not question you, and you will not have to lie to them.” Amara bowed, then turned and scurried from the conference chamber. As the door hissed shut, Breha sighed again and tucked her veil around herself, turning back to the window. Aldera City was beautiful in this light, the sun turning the white buildings gold. 

_Be safe, B, and come back to me. Please._

Too soon, Breha’s face fell into shadow as cold gray durasteel blocked out the sun. With hardened brown eyes, the Queen of Alderaan watched the Empire descend on her people, bent on finding and arresting her husband. She allowed herself another moment of cold anger, then put a smile on her face and went to welcome her enemies onto her world.

*

*

*

*  
Several hours into Hyperspace. Aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer _Inexorable_

“What is our estimated arrival time?” the words were a whipcrack on the bridge, which had been oddly silent for the past 15 seconds.

Darth Malefus tended to have that effect on people. 

_Inexorable’s_ chief officer, one Captain Atrela, immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

“We shall make planetfall in approximately 10 hours, M’Lord.” he said, jaw working nervously. Darth Malefus let out a low growl, then jerked his chin in acknowledgement. Though he gave no outward sign of it, Malefus was brimming with anticipation. Planetfall could not come soon enough for the Sith Lord. 

Two hours earlier, he’d received the best news of his life; Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker was alive. Or at least, he’d survived Order 66. Sidious had been rubbing it in his face for _years_ that he was a pale substitute for Skywalker, and now, now, Malefus had a chance to prove him wrong. In 10 hours, he’d come face to face with the Jedi’s Chosen One, and kill him.

Then, Sidious would be forced to accept that Malefus was a true Sith, worthy of being his apprentice. Once that happened, well, there was no telling what came next, but it would undoubtedly be better than having his master call him insufficient all the time.

As he turned to the Destroyer’s transparisteel viewport, his hand went unconsciously to his lightsaber, and a savage grin stretched his mouth.

He hadn’t felt so alive in, well, ever. 

10 hours.

_Prepare yourself, Jedi. Your death is coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is it for this fic. Cliffhangers everywhere and all that. I hope you enjoyed it! I'm going to start working on the next fic in this series very soon, and the first chapter should be up sometime this weekend!

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, Part 2 of my happier-than-canon Star Wars AU! This is going to follow all the main characters of "I Know". Much like TCW, it's not going to be in chronological order. This chapter takes place 8 years after Empire Day. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any questions! I'm so happy people actually want to read my trash story :)


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